


Transparent

by Oqfangirl



Series: Parallels [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, oq au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oqfangirl/pseuds/Oqfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina is the young wife of the King, and Robin is the royal reporter hand-picked by the Queen for an exclusive interview to be published on her birthday. Obviously, Robin and Regina are soul mates, and he can't help but fall for her as she lets him in to see who she is beneath the crown. I own nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea a couple of days ago, and...I ran with it.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

His eyes flit around the great room, taking in the grandeur as he nervously adjusts himself on the beige eighteenth century chair for the thousandth time. Larger than life portraits of the family's ancestors hang on the walls, and tall windows open onto the view of the palace's immaculately maintained gardens. Robin feels more than sees the guard's eyes on him as he reaches into the inside of his blazer to pull out the tape recorder in his pocket, checking the battery percentage to make sure it's at a hundred percent, though he knows it is, had made sure he had charged it overnight, had checked as he unplugged it from the plug in the hallway of his flat in the morning that it had indeed charged, had checked once more as he had locked the door of his flat, as he'd gotten into the cab that drove him to the palace, as the guard now standing at the door of the room had led him from the service entrance through the palace to one of the smaller state rooms. He can be forgiven for being perhaps a little paranoid, a little nervous.

For one thing, he can't quite believe he's here.

That he, of all royal correspondents, had been chosen to do this. That, he of all of them, had been hand-picked by the Queen herself, to conduct her very first interview. Not just her first interview, but the first interview, ever, of a monarch's spouse. He's only had this job for four months, and he's suddenly been thrown from interviewing garden party attendees about their royal encounters as they leave the palace grounds to having a royal encounter himself. A one-on-one encounter, for that matter, by special royal request. He can't fathom what on earth he's done to distinguish himself enough for such an honour, to be plucked from obscurity to conduct an exclusive interview with arguably the most famous woman in the world.

He tucks the recorder back into his pocket as he waits for the Queen to arrive, looks at his watch and his leg starts bouncing from the nerves when he sees she's a good twenty minutes late.

 _Maybe she's had second thoughts about this_ , he thinks, half expecting someone to burst through the door at any moment, tell him that this was all a mistake and they weren’t going to be doing an interview at all, or that the Queen had taken note of his lack of experience as a royal reporter and wanted his editor, Sidney Glass, to do the interview instead.

He's startled when the guard breaks the silence in the room to tell him, "Don't worry, mate. She sure is something, but she doesn't bite."

He looks up to find the guard smirking at him and so he attempts a smile, but it comes out as a grimace instead.

Suddenly, Robin hears voices outside the room, and the guard throws a look over his shoulder into the corridor and then turns to nod at Robin as he moves to the side of the doorway. Robin takes a deep breath and gets to his feet, buttoning his blazer as he stands.

" - and call her and tell her that I'll be at the polo charity event next month and we can discuss endorsing her own charity then. And, please, Ruby, remind Snow that it doesn't matter how passionate she is about those woodland creatures, her duties as a royal mean she is obligated to be impartial in political matters so she absolutely cannot express her support for that bill on social media or else we'll have a constitutional scandal on our hands. Maybe she'll listen to you."

And with that, the Queen has arrived, and she turns from the tall brunette at her side jotting down her every word on a sleek notepad - her private secretary, he knows, she's the one who called him to set up this interview and she's always in the background of pictures of the Queen, almost like she never leaves her side - to look at Robin, and suddenly, he has to remind himself to breathe.

Of course, he's seen her before. You'd have to be living under a rock not to have seen the thousands of magazine covers she's graced, not to have watched even a minute of the hundreds of news segments about her engagement or her wedding to the King, and of course he's been to every public event she's attended in the past four months - even some private ones - thanks to his press pass, but she’s never been this close to him and it's one thing to observe  _her_ from afar and quite another to be observed  _by her_.

She stands only a few metres from him now, her chocolate brown eyes fixed on him, and he can’t help his eyes from roaming down her body because she’s here in from of him, and he can see her now through his very own eyes, not through the lens of a camera or in the pages of a newspaper or on a computer screen: her raven-coloured hair that falls straight just past her shoulders, her blood red lips marked by a scar of which no one has yet found out the origin, the deep blue sheath dress she wears that  is tailored perfectly to her body, her hands where they rest folded together in front of her and her left ring finger with that infamous engagement ring on it, her feet snug in a pair of high-heels.

Ruby clears her throat, bringing him back to the moment, back to the protocol that Ruby had expounded to him over the phone the day before as Ruby announces, “May I introduce Robin Locksley, Ma’am, the reporter from the Daily Gazette? Robin Locksley, Her Majesty the Queen, Regina.”

Robin bows his head to the Queen as she walks closer to him with an outstretched hand and says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Locksley.”

He raises his head and reaches to take her hand as he responds, “The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty.”

And then their hands meet and Robin feels an odd sensation course through his entire body – and from the way the Queen’s expression changes, he thinks that perhaps she feels it too.

 _Strange_ , he thinks.

The Queen drops his hand, takes a step back from him towards the chair opposite the one he had been sitting in and says to her private secretary over her shoulder as she takes a seat, “Thank you, Ruby, that will be all.”

She is staring at him with a curious expression on her face and he finds he has to look away from the intensity of her gaze, so he looks above her head to where Ruby is backing out of the room, followed by the guard. The door closes behind them, and suddenly, he is alone with the Queen.

Well, by “one-on-one”, Ruby really meant, “one-on-one.” No camera man, no body guard, no assistants hovering in the background, just him and the Queen.

He swallows, looks back down at the Queen and tries to at least school his expression into one of calm as she gestures to him to take a seat, which he attempts to do, but misjudges where the chair is behind him and so he ends up bumping his ass against the arm of the chair rather than into the seat, and he quickly tries to recover and moves to the left to properly sit down.

Clearly he’s not doing a very good job of concealing his nerves, because now she’s looking at him with the hint of an amused expression.

He glances at the carpet as he reaches back into his pocket to retrieve his tape-recorder. He fiddles a little with it before placing it atop his thigh, looks up at the woman sitting across from him and asks, “Is it – erm – do you mind if I record this? I find recording more useful than taking notes – saves the awkwardness of a potential misquote or a misunderstanding of meaning.”

The Queen nods at him, then reaches towards the small table beside her chair as she asks, “Coffee or tea?”

“Excuse me?”

She glances at him, raises one of her eye brows, and he thinks he detects a bit of nervousness in her as well as she repeats, “Would you like coffee or tea?”

“Erm – tea, please.”

She rings the small bell that was sitting on the table and it seems that almost instantly the door behind her reopens, this time letting in a young blonde woman carrying a porcelain tea service.

The Queen smiles at the blonde and says, “Tea for Mr. Locksley, please, Ashley, and the usual for me. And if you could please bring some of that delicious shortbread Mrs. Lucas made this morning?”

“Of course, Ma’am,” Ashley replies as she pours tea for Robin and coffee for the Queen, leaving the cream and sugar on the table between their chairs before retreating from the room and closing the door behind her.

The Queen reaches for her coffee instantly, doesn’t bother with the cream or sugar, and he notes that she drinks her coffee black as he pours a splash of cream into his tea.

“So,” she says as she places her coffee cup on the side table and turns to him, “I’m sure that you’re curious about the reason why you have been chosen over all the other more experienced royal correspondents,” – he finds himself choking on his tea at her candour – “but first, more importantly, I should like to explain why the Royal Family has decided to break its media silence by having me interviewed.

“My husband, King Leopold, believes it important that our family remain transparent to the public. As he and my step-daughter Snow have both grown up in the public eye, he feels that they are well known and loved enough by the public that they are personally transparent enough. I, however,” – and he thinks he can detect the slightest edge in her tone as she says that – “am relatively new to the family, and to the public eye, and the King feels that a published interview would ingratiate me in the eyes of public and remove any sort of ‘mystery’ that may surround me. He thinks that despite the fact that I’ve been in the public eye every day for the past two years, I’m still somewhat an enigma, and we need to let the people get to know me. I agreed to his request, and he let me pick whoever I wanted to conduct the interview. So, that’s where you come in.”

“But – why me? As you said, there are tens of more experienced reporters who would kill for this kind of exclusive.”

She falls silent, seems to study him for a moment before she looks pointedly at the recorder in his lap, and he gets it instantly. Her response to  _that_ question she doesn’t want on the record, so he moves his hand to hit pause on the recorder, and tries to ignore the flutters in his stomach at the thought that he’s been sitting with her for less than ten minutes and already she seems to think he’s trustworthy enough not to leak something that she clearly doesn’t want made public.

She nods when she sees the red light of the recorder turn blue before drawing a deep breath and confessing, “I chose you  _because_  you’re the newest royal reporter. For the past two years, it’s always been the same reporters covering every single royal event. And then a few months ago, you appeared out of nowhere in the ranks of the press, and you were a new face, refreshingly.”

He feels a flush creep up his neck at that, at the idea that the whole time he’s been observing her, she’s been noticing him, but he doesn’t dwell on that thought for too long because she’s still explaining to him.

“You see, royal reporting seems to be a certain niche in this country’s journalism field. The journalists who take it up, the ones who have been at it for the past two years, have been doing it for years, since long before I came along. But you, you’re new. You haven’t spent the past ten years shadowing the Royals. And I thought that…because of that…” she falters, but he thinks he knows where she’s going with this, doesn’t even know how he knows but he supposes the impression has been in the back of his mind ever since her engagement to the king was announced.

She takes another deep breath before she fixes her brown eyes on his blue ones and finishes simply, “I chose you because you weren’t a royal correspondent while Queen Eva was alive.”

“Because if you have to give an interview, you don’t want the journalist to be able to compare you to the King’s first wife, to the Princess’ mother,” he states, with no judgement in his voice, instead he says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Which it is, especially since she'd become engaged to the King just a little over  a year after his first wife's death, had married Leopold only a week after the second anniversary of Eva's death, when the saintly Queen was still fresh in everyone's memory. He can't help but find fault in the King for that - he's only been shadowing the royals for a short while, but he knows, just like the rest of the world probably suspects, that the King's second marriage is not one based on love. 

“Exactly,” she exhales.

He smiles at her, hopes his earnestness shines through it as he says, “Well, no worries about that. I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

“Regina. I prefer Regina,” she urges, lifting a hand to gesture at the tape recorder in silent permission to turn it back on.

“Regina,” he repeats as he reaches for his tape recorder again and she adjusts herself in her seat.

“Because I felt like giving the new guy a chance,” she remarks off-handedly once the recorder’s light turns back to red.

“And I am forever grateful for that. Alright then, Regina, let’s start with a few get-to-know-you questions, shall we? Things people already know, but being related in your own words so it sounds fresh? And then we can just go wherever the conversation leads us, and so the contents of the article will be natural and” – he smirks – “transparent to the people, like they’re having a chat with a lovely lady come round for tea? Or, coffee, in your case.”

His nervousness is gone now, somehow disappeared in the past few minutes, because sitting here with her, having a conversation with her, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. She may be a Queen, but essentially she’s just a person like any other, not intimidating or emotionless as some stories report. Right then and there, he resolves that his article will depict her not as a frigid Queen but as the woman he sees in front of him, because that woman is intensely human and intoxicating and he wants to learn everything about her, at least as much as she’ll let him.

She nods, giving him a brilliant smile before saying, “Perfect,” reaching to take another sip of her coffee.

The door behind her opens again and he sees it’s Ashley, finally arrived with the shortbread.

Ashley places the shortbread on the table between them, and Regina instantly reaches for a piece.  Robin simply watches her, amused, because her eyes positively _lit up_ when the shortbread entered her line of vision. She literally looks like a kid in a candy store.  That thought makes him furrow his eyebrows, because right now, as she indulges in the tasty cookie, her youth shines through, and she doesn’t look like the Queen of a middle-aged King. She looks like a woman in her early twenties, enjoying the little things in life. Robin’s only a couple years older than her, and he can’t imagine what it must be like to be so young and – and have to act so old, to be the Queen to a kingdom and a mother to a teenager.

She looks up and catches his eye, asks him if he would like one, that they are the best things she’s ever tasted, but he shakes his head, too distracted by her to think about eating a cookie.

“Ok then,” she says, wiping off her fingers on a napkin, “What’s your first question?”

He spends the next hour and a half asking her about her childhood, about where she grew up, what she studied at university, her most cherished memory from university, about her relationship with her parents, about her passion for horse riding and the various competitions she’s won, about her other hobbies, about her plans for her 24th birthday, about what causes she supports, what inspires her on a daily basis, what books she’s read recently, and much more. And then he asks her a few silly questions, like if she were an animal, which animal would she be? Would she rather live in a dome under the ocean or in a space station on Mercury? Who’s her favourite fairytale character? What does she think of swans? Then he asks about the scar above her lip, and is actually surprised when she doesn’t just brush it off but tells him the story of it in detail.

And in that hour and a half, in every laugh he manages to draw out of her, in every wrinkle of her nose as she comes up with an answer to his question, in every bite she takes of that shortbread as she talks, Robin finds himself falling for the young woman in front of him. It’s too fast, he knows, but he’s been observing her for long enough to realize that right now, in this room, she’s let her guard down for him, is showing him who she really is behind the façade of the Queen.

And what she shows him is stunning. In every way.

………

As Regina walks down the palace steps to the car waiting to take her to her next engagement, she can’t help but focus on the flutters in her stomach, brought about by the dimpled reporter she’d just spent the past hour and a half conversing with. She’d gone in to the interview with her guard up, but there’d been something about him that had made her want to be honest with him, to tell him the truth about why she’d chosen him. She thinks perhaps it may have been a little foolish to have been so open with a journalist – after all, they live off scoops like that – but for some reason, she didn’t think he would share that particular piece of information with anyone.

When he’d said he’d never compare her to Queen Eva, he’d looked at her with such sincerity that she’d trusted him wholeheartedly, and so she’d let herself open up to him. The way he had treated her, the way he’d talked to her…as though he saw her for her, and not just as the stylish young bride of the king. She doesn’t think anyone’s actually seen _her_ without any labels attached since before her engagement to the king – maybe even longer. Maybe not even since Daniel.

She just hopes the fact that she’s let down her guard for a reporter in order to heed Leopold’s request for transparency will please the King.

……..

Robin leans back into his chair and stretches his fingers, trying to think of the perfect sentence with which to end his article about Queen Regina. He looks out the window at the twilight settling over the city, thinks that the blue of the sky is so very like the blue of her dress on the day he interviewed her.

He’s the last one in office now, except for a few of the interns, but the rest of his colleagues had all left an hour earlier, each making sure to tease on their way out about what they considered to be his “crush” on the Queen. He’d sent an earlier draft of his article out earlier in the day, had received multiple emails back telling him that it was brilliant, that it showed the Queen in a new light that would most surely make her more liked, but that perhaps it would be best to ease up on the blatant praise he’d lavished on the Queen in the article. 

“Don’t want the readers to think you’re being paid off by the palace, Robin,” his editor had said as he’d patted him on the back on his way out.

Others had said the praise was too much, too affectionate, too tender, but as Robin read over the last paragraph of his article once more, he couldn’t think of a single way to change it. Anything else wouldn’t be true, wouldn’t depict her how he’d seen her that day, wouldn’t be _transparent._ He doesn’t want the article to be superficial; he wants it to have depth, so that the people can see the woman beneath the crown.

And with that thought, he thinks he’s found the perfect last line.

…….

The article is published the day of her 24th birthday, front page with a large picture above the fold of her standing beside her horse, smiling against the sun, looking happy and carefree, a sharp contrast to the photos from her wedding day that had also graced the paper’s front page. “AN EXCLUSIVE WITH QUEEN REGINA” reads the title, with “By Robin Locksley” in much smaller letters underneath, which is the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes in the morning. Ashley must have placed it on her night table when she brought in her coffee. 

Regina is reaching for the newspaper when she’s startled by the door of her bedroom banging against the wall.

It’s Leopold, and he’s seething. He’s holding a copy of the newspaper in his hand, angrily waving it at her as he thunders, “What did you say to him? Are you sleeping with him?”

 “I – I – _what?_ ” she manages, gaping at him.

“Don’t you realize how humiliating this is for me? How this will look to Snow? It reads like a love letter!” he roars.

Her eyebrows rise at that, her lips forming a small o, and she absolutely should not feel giddy about that, not when her husband is standing in front of her in a rage.

And then she’s angry at him, because _how dare he._

“The reporter?” she says, glaring intently back at her husband, her tone clipped as she tries to keep her voice from shaking. “The only time I’ve ever seen him was when he came to the palace for that interview. You know I’m telling the truth, you have your people watching me like a hawk every minute of every day. He was just doing his job, as per your request that I make myself more ‘transparent’ to the public by giving a personal interview so that the people can ‘get to know me.’ I did as you asked, and during the interview I tried to be myself, and I suppose he - ”

Leopold is shaking his head vehemently and then he’s shouting at her again.

“You’re not supposed to be _yourself_. You’re supposed to be _my_ Queen and Snow’s mother. The people need to see you like that, not the way you come across in this!” he yells as he jabs a meaty finger at the paper in his hand.

She’s taken aback by that, feels the tears stinging at the back of her eyes as another wave of the rejection that she’s felt every single day since she’s became engaged to Leopold washes over her again. Nothing she does is good enough.

A hot tear rolls down her cheek, and she hates that he’s here to witness her cry. Hates that he can make her cry.

“Maybe if you and Snow didn’t so blatantly exclude me and make me look like an outsider whenever the three of us are together in public then that’s how the people would see me,” she snarls.

He lets out an exasperated sigh at that, shakes his head at her and says, “You’ve no one to blame but yourself. Snow and I are leaving for the derby in a few hours. We’ll be back in a couple of days. I’ll make excuses for you, tell everyone you’re not feeling well enough to travel. You are not to set a foot outside this palace while we’re gone.”

With that, he stalks out of the room, leaving her alone in her misery. The door slams behind him, and she lets out a loud sob, picks up a pillow from her bed and half-heartedly throws it at the door.

So much for transparency.

……

Regina cries herself back to sleep, a deep and dreamless slumber. 

When she wakes a couple of hours later, her mind is deliciously clear of all thoughts and memories for the briefest of moments before reality comes crashing down on her, causing her to let out a groan as she opens her eyes.

The heavy curtains are still drawn over the windows, but the light beaming out around the edges tells her that it’s probably around midday.

She clambers out of bed and pads over to the windows, pulling aside the curtain of one and sleepily rubbing at an eye as she looks down to the back courtyard of the palace. From here, she has a view of the mews where the royal cars are kept, and she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when she sees that all but one of the cars have already left, meaning the King and his daughter have already left for their journey south to the derby.

She also has a view of the guards in their stations around the back palace gates. To the outside world, it seems like they stand guard to keep people out, but she knows they’re also there to keep her in.

Resting her forehead against the glass, she watches a group of tourists standing on the other side of the gates. They’re striking poses and taking pictures, laughing as one sidles up to one of the guards and tries to make his composure crack. They look like they’re around her age, and a part of her aches to join them, to have the freedom to travel, to have friends to laugh with, not to have the weight of a kingdom’s expectations on her shoulders. She’s only 24, for crying out loud, and yet she feels like her life has already ended before it even had a chance to really begin.

Regina turns away from the window, tries to brush away such self-pitying thoughts to keep the tears at bay, and moves to the other side of the room to get dressed. She chooses a light blue floor length dress with sheer sleeves, because, well, she loves the colour, and it’s super comfortable, and it’s her birthday.

She makes her way down the palace’s grand staircase towards the dining room, where she finds the table laden with her favourite foods. It’s enough to feed fifty, but today, she’s the only one to enjoy it. Mrs. Lucas, the palace chef, has placed a birthday card signed by the staff at her usual spot at the table, along with a note saying that the kitchen staff and the maids have been given the afternoon off by the King, and that if she needs anything, they’ll be back by 7.

Regina stands there, staring at the note , before she places it back on the table and helps herself to some salmon and asparagus. She sits by herself at the table, staring at a mark on the table a few inches in front of her place mat, eating monotonously.

It’s as she’s putting a spoonful of a delicious tiramisu into her mouth that her shoulders start shaking and tears start pouring down her face.

It’s her birthday, and she’s got nothing to do, nowhere to go. When one is surrounded by friends and family, that might sound like paradise, but here, all alone in a cavernous dining room, eating a birthday spread by herself…it’s agony.

She’d been so looking forward to going to that derby, in a moment of kindness the King had promised her the trip for her birthday, because he knew how much she loved horses. But the King could be cruel, and now he’s taken away the one thing she’d actually been excited about for the past couple of months, leaving her to spend her birthday in solitude, while he and Snow go without her. _And Snow White is terrified of horses,_ she thinks bitterly.

What’s worse, she can’t think of a single person she’d want to be here with her to celebrate her birthday, and that makes her weep harder.

Her father doesn’t even live in the country anymore, since when the King had assigned her mother to her diplomatic post  in the west Cora had been adamant that he come along with her, that he stop coddling their daughter and leave her with her new ‘family.’

Daniel’s dead, killed in a barn fire only a week before her engagement to the King, and other than him, she’s never really had any friends. Well, Daniel was her _boyfriend_ , not just her friend, but still. She’s only ever had acquaintances, thanks to the fact that her mother made sure to drive away all potential friends one way or another.

She’s alone.

She lets the spoon in her hand fall to the table in a clatter and runs back to her room where she launches herself onto her bed and grabs a pillow to sob into.

Above the sound of her quiet sobs comes a sharp chirping noise, and it takes a moment to register with Regina that it’s her phone telling her she has a new email.

She sits up, not bothering to wipe the tears as they make their way down her cheeks as she lifts her phone from its place on her night table and unlocks it. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees that the email is from Robin. She’d given him her personal email at the end of her interview, had made him promise that he wouldn’t give it to a soul and that he’d only use if he needed to clarify something while he was writing the article about her.

Regina stares at the screen of her phone for a moment before opening the email to see what he has to say.

_Dear Regina,_

_First of all, happy birthday! I hope your 25 th year brings you light and happiness. _

_When we met a few weeks ago, you assured me that you would give me a call to let me know what you thought of the article once it was published._

_I have to be honest, I’ve been wearing out the hardwood in my office as I pace back and forth, waiting for your call. I can only think that your silence is a negative sign._

_I do hope that I haven’t upset you._

_I know you must be busy, especially today of all days, and so I’ll resign myself to waiting some more to hear your thoughts, and if I have upset you, for that I’m deeply sorry, and I hope that you can forgive a common reporter like me._

_Your loyal subject,_

_Robin_

_P.S. Here’s my phone number, just in case: 33422343226_

Regina glances guiltily at the newspaper that still lies on her night table, because in dwelling in her own misery she hadn’t even bothered to read his article. She scoots across her bed to rest her back against the pillows at the head of the bed and picks up the newspaper to read the article, taking a deep breath before reading the first paragraph.

_Her Majesty the Queen, or Regina, as she prefers to be called, is nothing like what her critics would have you believe. She is not aloof, nor is she stiff or haughty. Quite the opposite in fact. In the hour and a half that I had the privilege to spend with her, I’ve come to see that our Queen is warm and kindhearted, bold and audacious._

She lets out a soft gasp, hungrily devours the rest of the article. By the time she reaches the end, there are tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, for an entirely different reason than earlier.

She hasn’t fully realized how much she’s needed this. How much she’s needed someone to just have some faith in her, and if his writing is any indication, he does, and he’s shared that faith with the entire country.

……

He’s still pacing back and forth across his office, waiting for her call, and he’s becoming convinced that it’ll never come, that instead two armed guards will burst through the door at any moment to escort him to the Tower for displeasing the Queen. He knows he’s being silly, but the anxiety is eating away at his stomach.

His phone has been ringing off the hook all day, with major news networks calling to invite him onto their evening shows to chat about his exclusive with the Queen. He’s denied every single one, because he wants to know _her_ thoughts before he agrees to anything of the sort.

The phone rings then, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He lunges for the receiver, picking it up without bothering to look at the caller ID, banging his hip against the corner of his desk in the process. The loud _FUCK_ he lets out at the burst of pain is automatic, and he’s sure the person on the other end has heard it, his eyes squeezing shut as he lifts the phone to his ear and says wearily, “Hello?”

“Robin?”

It’s her. His heart starts pounding as the anxiety ramps up, because the moment he’s been waiting for all day has finally come.

“Regina?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” she chuckles, and it has a slightly wet sound to it that makes him wonder if she’s been crying.

“Wha – erm – what did you think of the article?”

There’s a brief silence on the other line, and he wonders if she’s going to hang up on him, but then he hears her take a shaky breath before she says, “I’m sorry for taking so long to get back to you. I’ve only just finished reading it, actually.”

She pauses again, but he doesn’t say anything to fill the silence, instead just waits for her to continue, and then her voice cracks as she tells him, “Thank you for believing in me.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

He doesn’t know what to say.

His mouth opens and closes as he tries to think of what words to form, but his mind is drawing a blank.

It doesn’t really matter though, because she’s still talking, her voice betraying deep emotion. “I guess I’ve been feeling a bit lost lately, a bit lonely, not really sure what I’m doing or how to be what everyone expects me to be – but your article – it just – it’s – ” she trails off, and he waits.

“I think I’ve been searching for a boost of some kind, and your article was it.”

He can’t help it, a foolish grin is spreading across his face. She loved the article. He moves to sit at his desk as she continues, “Thank you for sharing such a ringing endorsement of me with the world.”

“Well, I’ve always been a fan of Queen Regina,” he teases, leaning back in his chair now, “and I think everyone else should be one, too.”

There’s a pause, and then he hears her laugh, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so widely.

He’s about to ask whether the King thought that it made her “transparent” enough, but suddenly the door to his office opens and Robin lifts a hand to cover the mouth of the receiver as Sidney leans into the room. “Robin, the palace has just released a statement that the Queen’s ill and won’t be attending the derby this weekend. The King and the Princess were supposed to attend anyway, but they made a last minute decision to spend the weekend at their summer palace instead. You won’t have to travel south this weekend after all, so take a break, just relax. After all your hard work on the article on the Queen, you deserve it.”

The door closes behind Sidney, and Robin just stares at the door for a few seconds, no longer smiling, perplexed, before he remembers that he’s left a rather lovely lady hanging on the other end of the phone.

“You – You’re – Are you still in the city?”

“Yes,” she says tentatively, seemingly surprised by the intensity of his tone.

“Are you sick?”

She sighs heavily, answers him in a whisper. “No.”

He has a sinking feeling in his stomach, as he splutters, “Then – wh – why aren’t you going to the derby? You told me – you said the trip was a present from the King and – and you wouldn’t miss it for the world?”

She doesn’t answer, instead lets the silence stretch between them.

 He leans forward to rest his elbows on his desk, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes fall shut. “Regina, this is all off the record. If you’re not sick, and you’re not going to the derby, why aren’t you with the King and the Princess at the summer palace?”

“They went to the summer palace instead?” she asks coolly. Then, a dry chuckle. “They didn’t tell me.”

And it doesn’t sit well with him, that her husband and her stepdaughter have left her in a palace all alone on her birthday, that they’ve lied to the press about the reason why, that they didn’t even inform her of their change of plans, and he can’t help but think that maybe things are worse than he’d ever imagined.

“Can – can I see you, Regina? Today?” he asks hesitantly. The second it’s out of his mouth, he regrets it, thinks it completely foolish, is opening his mouth to tell her to forget it, but then she asks a simple question, and he’s surprised she didn’t rebuke him immediately.

“Why?”

He shrugs, realizes she can’t see him, then says, “No one should be alone on their birthday.” And he means it, but the ache in his chest brought about by Sidney’s information and her evasive answers to his questions makes him want to comfort her, or at least be there for her, because he doesn’t know what’s going on in the royal family but he knows it can’t be good. He knows he’s probably overstepping his bounds, but he just can’t help it. He cares for her, deeply, and to be honest, he hasn’t even seen her since the interview and he yearns to. She’s all he’s thought about for the past three weeks since, as he’s played and replayed their conversation on his recorder while writing the article, her name playing on a loop through his head during his waking hours and her face appearing in every one of his dreams at night. When she’d first spoken to him over the phone a few minutes ago, he’d thought she’d sounded like he’d been crying, and he guess he’d chalked it up to her being emotional about the article, but maybe he was just being an arrogant twat and it was really something else that had upset her so much.

He can’t bear the thought of her in tears, in pain.

She sighs again, but it’s not deep and shuddering this time and he actually thinks it sounds more like a gasp, and then she says softly, “You’d have to come to the palace.”

His heart beats fast at that, he can’t actually believe that she’s considering it.

He surprises even himself with the sincerity in his voice when he says, “I’d go to hell and back if it meant I could see you.”

“Well, sometimes this palace feels like that,” she mumbles, and his stomach drops.

“But – ” she starts, pauses, continues, “Maybe some company would make it feel less like that right now.”

 “Alright,” he says, and the idea of seeing her again makes him smile. “I’ll be there soon. What should I tell the guards?”

“I’ll text you instructions in a few minutes, ok? Can I text this number?”

“No, this is my office phone,” he tells her, and then waits for a few seconds while she grabs a pen and paper to write down his cell number as he dictates it.

“Ok, um, see you soon,” she says once he’s said the last digit, and he can’t help but think there’s a dash of coyness in her voice.

He hangs up, and for a few minutes he just waits for her text as he glances around his office, eyes resting on his diploma hanging on the wall. He wonders what his university Ethics professor would say if he were here at this moment.

 _What the hell am I doing?_ he thinks.

……

 “Jefferson, you owe me. I could have told Gold about that time you drove me to all of my engagements while you were high as a kite, but I didn’t. I’m cashing in my chips now. Please.”

Regina stands by the door of her bedroom, finger pressed to the intercom button as she pleads with one of her personal bodyguards to grant her request. They’d gone to the same high school in the north of the country, and so she actually has a personal relationship with him, as opposed to the rest of Leopold’s lackeys.

“What do you need?” he asks, voice low and curious.

 “I’m going to have a visitor soon, and I’d like you to let him in through the service entrance. If the guards ask questions, just tell them that he’s – he’s – tell them that my laptop crashed and I wanted it to be serviced straight away and he’s one of those tech guys.”

“I don’t think – ”

 “Please, Jeff. It’s my birthday, and he’s - he's a friend.”

Jefferson sighs, but she knows he won’t deny her anything and her face breaks into a smile when he mutters, “Fine. I’ll intercom you when he’s here.”

“Thank you, Jefferson,”  she says sweetly, rolls her eyes at his gruff “yeah, yeah,” thinks maybe she should remind him that he may have known her when she was an awkward teenager but she’s the Queen now, and perhaps he should act a bit more professionally, but he’s doing her a favour and so she lets it go, releases the intercom button and texts Robin before moving to her vanity to see what she can do about her tear-stained face and red eyes.

As she regards herself in the mirror, she can scarcely believe she was sobbing only minutes ago, because the smile on her face is brilliant, and hope shines from her eyes, despite their slightly red and puffy exterior, because she’s not going to be alone on her birthday after all.

She can’t help it. The reporter with the dimples,  _Robin,_  is getting to her, and she knows she shouldn’t indulge him, that it’s dangerous, but right now, she finds herself eager to see him. Especially after that incredible article he’d written about her.

He’s a reporter, makes his living off writing stories about her and the other royals, and she should probably be more wary of him, and a part of her thinks that maybe his concern for her is all an act, that he’s purposely charming his way into her life to earn her trust to get an upper hand on the other reporters, but another part of her thinks he’s not really capable of that kind of deception.

_Oh my GOD, Regina, you’ve only met him once. How would you know?_

She silences that voice in her head, that voice that sounds oddly like her mother’s, because even if he does have a secret plan, she finds she can’t let go of the way he makes her feel.

The way that his light teasing and his obvious concern for her make her momentarily forget her anger and sadness and loneliness, so she finds herself willing to take a chance on him, because honestly, her life sucks, and if he’s there to brighten her world, to be her friend, to make her feel something close to happy when she didn’t think she ever would again, and to give her some company so she won’t have to be alone on her birthday, well, that’s all she needs at the moment.  

_Just don’t fall in love with him._

That line from the first paragraph of the article runs through her mind as she applies concealer, repeats as she brushes the wand of mascara against her lashes, magnifies in volume as she dabs a light-coloured lipstick onto her lips.

 _Regina…is nothing like what her critics would have you believe…Quite the opposite, in fact_.

_Quite the opposite._

…….

It’s 3:28 when she finally texts him, telling him that a guard named Jefferson will be waiting for him at the service entrance of the palace to escort him to her apartments, and that if the guards recognize him as the reporter he should tell them he’s a twin. That makes him chuckle, but it also worries him, because he doesn’t want to cause trouble for her.

Robin hails a cab to the palace, subdues the cab driver’s curiosity by telling him that his friend works at the palace, and he’s just popping over to meet her in the servants’ quarters.

“Just a friend?” teases the cabbie, but Robin just chuckles, brushes off the question by turning his gaze to the window.

There’s a tall man with brown hair standing just outside the gate marked “Service Entrance,” and Robin makes his way over to him, intensely aware that the guard seems to be scrutinizing him.

“Are you Jefferson?”

The man nods. “You here to see her?”

“Yes.”

Jefferson looks him over once more before saying, “Follow me.”

He turns and walks through the gate, followed by Robin.

“Hold it, Jefferson,” comes a gruff voice from the security kiosk beside the gate. “Who’s this?”

Robin stops abruptly, glances over to see a short, bald man glaring at him. “This is…Roland,” explains Jefferson. “The Queen’s laptop crashed. He’s here to fix it.”

“He doesn’t look like a tech guy to me.”

“Yeah, well, Leroy, you don’t exactly look like a palace guard, but you are one, aren’t you?”

Leroy looks him up and down, shrugs and turns back to his post, and Robin can hear Jefferson’s sigh of relief beside him.

It worries him, puts a gnawing feeling in his stomach, makes him think that maybe this was a mistake, that there’s too much at stake, that both of them are risking too much with this.

They walk into the courtyard towards the palace in silence, and once inside, Jefferson leads him through the kitchens into the dining room, where tens of plates are piled high with various foods on the long dining table, but there’s only one place setting. It makes his heart ache.

From the dining room, they walk up the palace’s grand staircase, to the left down a corridor where Jefferson stops, presses a hidden button on the wall, and waits.

“Yes?” comes her voice, and it’s like velvet, and he’s heard her voice less than half hour ago but he finds that he’s _missed_ it, and he thinks that he doesn’t want to go a day without hearing her voice. _Good thing I’m a royal reporter and my job is to go wherever she goes that the press is allowed._

But the press is definitely not allowed here, in her private quarters.

“We’re just down the hall,” says Jefferson.

“Ok. You can let him in.”

Jefferson gestures for him to follow him down the corridor to their right and then stops halfway and places his hand on the knob of a door to the left. He pauses for a moment, looks at Robin with a smirk on his face, and then pushes the door open, waving his arm for Robin to enter the room.

He does.

…..

After Jefferson’s message that they were just down the hall, Regina walks over towards the door of her sitting room, anxiously stands a few metres in front of it so that when Jefferson opens the door, she’ll be able to see _him_ right away.

The door opens, and there he is.

“Hi,” she exhales.

Robin bites his bottom lip, making her gaze drop from his eyes to his mouth. He nods his head in a bow to her, then teases, “So I’m here to fix your laptop, am I, Your Majesty?” making her roll her eyes as she walks past him to look into the hall. Jefferson is already making his way back down the corridor.

“Thank you,” she calls to Jefferson’s retreating back.

“You’re lucky that Gold is travelling with the King and he’s not here to be the one to ask questions,” he throws over his shoulder, causing her let out a frustrated huff, because why can’t he ever do anything without a snide remark?

But he’s right.

She closes the door and turns back to Robin, pressing her hands against the door and leaning on it. They just look at each other for a moment, studying each other, before Robin breaks the silence with a “Happy birthday, Regina.”

She smiles, looks down at the floor, and a lock of hair falls across her face. “Seems you’re the only one who cares that I’ve been left alone on my birthday.”

Regina hears the sounds of Robin taking steps towards her, sees his shoes in her line of vision where she’s staring at the floor. Then, a hand, hesitant, reaching towards her face to smooth her hair away from it. She looks up, sees his eyes full of concern, smile no longer on his lips as he questions in a low voice, “And why were you left alone?”

There’s something about him, something about his eyes that makes her want to fall into them, let herself drown in them. Everything else seems to fade away, and all she knows is his blue eyes, as blue as the ocean, eyes that are looking back into hers with such tenderness, such worry, and she wonders when was the last time that someone’s so clearly cared so much about her. Maybe never. Definitely not since Daniel.

“Off the record, Regina.”

His palm rests on her cheek, and she thinks that maybe she should remind him that he’s forgetting himself, that she’s the queen and he’s not supposed to touch her, but she _wants_ his hand to stay where it is, and then she realizes that it’s been almost a minute and she still hasn’t answered him.

Her voice is barely above a whisper as she says, “The King thinks that I humiliated him by being _myself_ while being interviewed. He thinks that the people should only see me as his Queen and as Snow’s mother, that my own personality doesn’t matter. That I should keep it hidden.” A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t mention that Leopold had accused her of sleeping with him, that he’d thought that he was in love with her.

He pulls his hand away, and she misses his touch instantly. He turns away from her, takes a few steps towards the settee in the middle of the room, putting distance between them, and then he’s running a hand through his hair as the other rests on his hip, and she thinks she hears him say, _FUCK_ , before he’s facing her again. “He’s an idiot.”

“He’s the king.”

“And?  Kings can’t be idiots?”

She splutters a laugh at that, and he sinks down onto the settee, stares down at the floor.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this.”

Regina walks over to him, makes sure to keep at least a foot between them when she sits down beside him.  “It’s not your fault, Robin. You wrote the article with what I gave you. Leopold wanted me to give you something different.”

“Maybe, but – ” he’s shaking his head, adjusting his position so that he’s facing her and their knees are almost touching, and then he’s reaching for her, taking both of her hands in his as he looks deep into her eyes. “Regina. No matter what your husband says, no matter what he thinks, you are more than the labels of ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ and ‘mother’. The people deserve to see that. _You_ deserve to have them see that. And when they do, I – I think that they’ll find you just as wonderful and intoxicating as I do. And they’ll be loyal to you for it – they’ll love you for it. They’ll see you for what you are – this kingdom’s greatest treasure.”

She scoffs, looks away. “Not Snow White?”

His thumbs caress the backs of her hands now, sending delicious tingles through her, and he tries to catch her eye as he says, “Snow White is a spoiled and coddled child.”

That has the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile, because thank god, someone has actually voiced her opinion of her stepdaughter instead of showering her with gratuitous praise.  “The people adore her because she was a cute kid, but she’s growing up and they’re not going to tolerate that behaviour for much longer.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asks, hopeful.

“I do,” he tells her, a small smile on his face as he squeezes the hands still in his grasp. He clears his throat, says in a much lighter tone, “I also believe, milady, that you deserve a drink. And some cake. It is your birthday, after all, and I noticed quite the mouth-watering spread on the dining room table downstairs. Shall we?”

She finds herself blushing at the new moniker, because for some reason, she finds it just so _sweet,_ just like him, and then she stands and he lets her hands go. “We shall. The staff is out until 7, so there’s no need to worry about being seen.”

Regina thinks she sees hesitation flash across his face at that, but then he stands as well, and they make their way out of her sitting room and down to the dining room.

They stand in front of the table, taking in all of the food and deserts. Regina stands with her hands resting on the top of her chair, Robin to her right. Aside from the tiramisu, there are three different cakes, small, yet big enough to feed eight. She points each one out to Robin, tells him one is hazelnut and white chocolate, another is chocolate amaretto ( _that’s my favourite,_ she practically gushes), and the third is a sour cream blueberry cheesecake. There’s also a full size bottle of Dom on the table, but there’s only one glass.

“I’ll go get another glass, and a fork too.”

She hurries into the kitchen, comes back into the dining room to see that he’s removed his jacket, placed it on the back of his chair. She feels a flash of heat course through her, because the sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and she sees that the forearms that he rests on the table are toned and slightly tanned, contrasting with the light blue of his shirt, and _it does things to her._

As she sits down, reaches for the chocolate amaretto cake and digs her fork into it, not bothering with a plate, she says, “You know quite a great deal about me, Robin. But I don’t know anything about _you_.”

 “Well, milady, what would you like to know?” he asks playfully, reaching his right hand for the bottle of Dom to pop the cork and _Oh._

Everything falls into place, because there, on the inside of his wrist, is a lion tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it! I'm thinking that this will be a maximum of five parts, maybe only four. We'll see. Your feedback is truly appreciated! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

_It's one of those rare hot days in June in the country's north, where June is mostly characterized with misty rain accompanied by thunder and endless days of grey. And it's a good thing that today the sky is blue, that the sun shines over the fields and rolling hills, because today, today, the fair is in town._

_She's eighteen. Eighteen, and just graduated from high school, come home from boarding school with diploma in hand for the brief few months before she would leave again, off to university at one of the country's finest, oldest, and grandest institutions. (Her mother's choice, not her own.)_

_She and Daniel are making their way into tow from her family's estate, hand in hand, laughing, heading to the fair, Regina's long dark curls gently tousled by the wind._

_They've been together since Christmas, since that day during her school holidays when she'd been at the stables just outside of town, going through her dressage routine for the thousandth time, when Daniel had finally worked up the nerve to ask her on a date after months of lingering looks and secret smiles. Daniel had started working at the stables the August before, and they'd caught each other's eye instantly. He was a couple years older, and he wasn't like the others, who either tried to impress her or were intimidated by her. They'd spent almost every free minute of her holiday together after that first date, had practically been attached at the hip, had fallen faster and harder and deeper than either of them had ever thought possible. When school had started up again, Regina had come home every weekend that she could, just so she could see him. They'd spend time at the stables, Regina grooming her horse, Rocinante, while Daniel worked, had gone to the movies, had gone out for dinner, had spent countless hours in cafés while Regina did her school work and Daniel pretended to read, though really he was just watching her affectionately._

_Her mother had dismissed it as a youthful dalliance, had told Regina that she had better ways to spend her time than with "that boy" who hadn't even attended university, but Regina didn't care what her mother thought, and she had maintained her grades and her competitive ranking for dressage had actually risen, so her mother had no cause for complaint._

_For the first time in her young life, Regina had found someone who loved her, who she loved back. With all her heart._

_They're walking past the first few stalls of the fair now. Daniel tugs at her hand, gently pulls her towards the stall – or, tent, rather – that has caught his eye to the left. It's green, and strung up against it is a laminated sign that reads, "Madame Belle Tinker. Fortune Teller. Your future waits inside. $10 a reading."_

_Daniel nods towards the sign, says "Shall we see what future awaits us?"_

_Regina scoffs, wraps her arm around his waist and draws him close, "You and your silly superstitions."_

_He chuckles, looks down at her. "But you still love me."_

_She sighs happily, gazes deep into his eyes as she replies softly, "I do."_

_They walk into a tent, where a small table is set up. A lithe young blonde wearing a simple green dress is seated there, her hair in a sock bun._

_"Welcome!" she squeals. "Are you ready to hear what your futures have in store for you? Ladies first! Have a seat, and sir, you can wait outside. I prefer to conduct my sessions in private."_

_She's peppy, incredibly so, making Regina roll her eyes as she and Daniel exchange a glance. He squeezes her hand, says "I'll be right outside," before he exits the tent, and then Regina sits down across from the fortune teller._

_"What, no crystal ball?" Regina jokes._

_"No, I've no need for that. Place your hand on the table, please, palm up."_

_The blonde studies her palm for a few moments, running her fingers over the lines. Suddenly, she looks up into Regina's eyes, and Regina is startled by the intensity of her gaze._

_"You're going to be queen," the woman says in a gasp. "But...you won't be happy. Your husband won't love you, and you won't love him. You'll just have to be patient though, because - because one day, you will find love. A man will come into your life, and you'll know him by his lion tattoo. It's written in the stars - one of the greatest love stories of our time." The fortune teller is smiling at her now, eyes gone soft and doey, like it's the most romantic thing she's ever heard._

_Regina feels like she's just been stabbed in the heart._

_"You're lying," she practically spits, because it can't be true, none of it, because_ Daniel. _"I already have love in my life. You're nothing but a phony."_

_"He's your soul mate, Regina. You can't run from your destiny," the fortune teller pleads as Regina leaps to her feet and throws a ten dollar bill on the table before stalking out._

_She nearly rips the door flap of the tent on her way out. Daniel had been standing just outside, and he takes one look at her expression before his face is flooded with concern for her. He stops her with a hand on her arm. "What's wrong?"_

_Regina rolls her eyes, huffs. "She's full of it."_

_"What did she say to you?"_

_She doesn't look at him, focuses instead on the stall just over his shoulder, where three little blonde girls are giggling and playing ring toss, hoping to win a giant plush lion. God, even the prizes are mocking her._

_She tears her gaze away, finally looks up into Daniel's eyes. "She said that one day - that one day, I'll come across a man with a lion tattoo, and it's my 'destiny' to be with him."_

_Daniel is silent for a moment, his eyebrows knitted together. Then, his hand moves down her arm to grasp her hand in his._

_"And you're upset because I don't have a lion tattoo."_

_"Exactly," she breathes as she moves on to her toes to bring her mouth to his in a reassuring kiss, "and I can't imagine a future without you."_

_..._

She doesn't respond to his question, is staring at the tattoo on the inside of his wrist instead, her jaw dropping in shock. Regina looks up at his face, seeing it in an altogether new light.

The sandy-blonde hair on his head and along his jaw where's he allowed a shadow of a beard to grow, his deep blue eyes (that she thinks are gorgeous, eyes that are currently filled with concern for her because of her sudden silence and change in demeanour), the dimples that appear on his cheeks whenever he smiles, whenever he purses his lips together in concentration.

_It's him._

_Is it?_

_Can it actually be him?_

It makes sense now, why she had this inexplicable feeling that she could trust him, even though he was a reporter, why she felt like she could confide to him about her woes, about her problem with Leopold, even though she barely knows him, why she's willing to take the risk to invite him to the palace to spend time with her on her birthday, even though Leopold would punish her if he ever found out, why she feels this undeniable and profound _pull_ towards him, because she realizes now that it's her soul reaching out to his, his soul reaching back for her.

 _Soul mates,_ the fortune teller had said.

There's a burst of happiness deep inside her, because she'd truly thought that she'd never have love ever again after Daniel's death, that she would never love again and that no one would ever love her, and the fortune teller had been right about her marriage to the king so maybe she's right about the man with the lion tattoo as well. Maybe Robin is her second chance. If he is the man with the fortune teller had told her about, she's glad, because she _likes_ him and he's clearly a decent man. Some of her nightmares in the past two years had included finally coming across the man with a lion tattoo and finding out he's a chauvinistic, disgusting ass. But the man with the lion tattoo is sitting here in front of her, and he's none of those things. He's sweet and funny, handsome and kind, and he cares about her, that much is obvious.

But along with that happiness is a profound despair, because she's married. Why did he have to come into her life when she was _married_. Married to the _king_ , of all people.

Those first few weeks when she'd been engaged to the king, battling both her grief over Daniel's death and her revulsion at the idea of marriage to the king, a man she didn't love and who was still in love with his first wife, she'd gotten into more than a few screaming matches with her mother, had screamed and cried and raged that she didn't _want_ to be Queen, that she didn't want the kind of life her mother wanted for her. She'd tried to resist, had even tried fleeing the country before her mother had found her, brought her back to the King and informed her that the only way out of her engagement to the king would be her death. Her father had just stood by, helpless, had given in to her all of her mother's demands, had tried to comfort his daughter by telling her at least she would have a good life as Queen, wanting for nothing, that it was every girl's dream, that she could learn to love her new family. She'd tried to explain to him through her racking sobs that she didn't care about the riches or the fame, that she just wanted to be _free_ and have _true_ love and that a lifetime of being married to the king would be a prison sentence, tied down and attached to a family that she barely knew and didn't even like. That she was only 21, for heaven's sake, and the man was more than twice her age, and his insipid daughter was only eight years younger than herself and she was expected to be her _mother_?

"Regina? Are you alright?" His hand has stilled over the neck of the champagne bottle.

The king would rage at her for betraying him, would have her killed before allowing her a divorce, and if he didn't, then her mother surely would.

But she's not really living, is she? For the past two years, she's felt almost dead inside, has barely felt an emotion other than rage and sadness, and deep, deep loneliness.

Neither her mother nor the king are here to witness her disobedience, and so she makes her decision. She'll allow herself to feel something other than anger and despair for the first time in a long while.

She's going to allow herself to hold on to the hope that blossomed within her from the first moment she'd met him. She's going to allow herself to open her heart to the possibility of love.

 _True love can overcome any obstacle,_ Daniel's voice reminds her.

In this moment, here, right now, she's going to do what she wants to do, not what her mother or her husband _expect_ her to do.

And so she smiles at him, takes in the way his whole body seems to relax at that, responds, "I'm fine. Tell me about your tattoo."

...

Robin can't remember a time in his life that he's ever been happier than he is now, sitting in the palace dining room, eating cake and drinking champagne with the Queen, on her birthday, their chairs shifted towards each other so that their knees brush every now and again.

His heart feels like it's going to explode out of his chest, and he feels so light that he thinks he might just fly away. And maybe that has something to do with the champagne, but he's fairly certain that a good chunk of it is due to the stunning woman seated beside him.

They've been sitting there for over two hours as she'd asked him questions about his life, had finished the bottle of champagne together in the first hour, had each had about three slices of cake each before Regina had run into the cellar for another bottle.

They've not yet finished the second bottle, are currently both in stitches laughing because Robin has just shared with her the story of when he was six years old, and had been so taken with the story of Robin Hood that he'd gone and decided that his family was rich and needed to help the poor, had taken half of his mother's jewellery to the pawn shop, had proceeded to take the money he'd gotten to the nearest church where he'd solemnly asked the little old lady in the office to please distribute it to the poor for him, because he didn't know where to find them, you see.

"And the pawn shop actually bought jewellery from a six year old?" She's holding her hands to her ribs, panting to try and catch her breath.

"Yes! And my mother - her face! I'll never forget her face!" he wheezes, tries to imitate it but is unable to stop laughing long enough to do so.

She's laughing again, her shoulders shaking, no sound escaping her mouth, her elbow on the table as she rests her palm against her forehead, and Robin thinks that he'd like to spend the rest of his life making her laugh just like that.

 _You can't,_ snarls a voice in his head, _she's already married. To the King._

The thought sobers him up, makes him fall silent mid-chuckle, has him realizing that they've been sitting there for quite a long while, that the staff will be back soon, and that he really should leave lest he be seen by someone, because it's already been made quite clear to him that he's not supposed to be here.

He doesn't want to go.

He doesn't want to leave her here in the draughty old palace that she clearly feels is a prison, doesn't want to leave her with no other company than the servants for a whole weekend, but he knows he has to, so he waits until she's caught her breath before he says, "Milady, it's almost 7. As loathe as I am to say so, I'm afraid I have to leave now, before the staff returns."

He sees a flash of disappointment cross her face, but then she's nodding. As he stands, pick up his jacket off the back of his chair and puts it on, she says, "Robin, I texted you. You have my number -"

"Don't worry, milady, I'll delete it. I won't use it, nor will I share it with anyone."

"No," she chuckles, placing her hands on the back of her chair as she turns to look up at him. "I'm not worried about that. I - I _want_ you to use it."

He pauses then, one arm in his jacket and the other hanging out. "You want me to text you?" He can't stop the smile that's spreading across his face.

Regina nods, beaming up at him. "I'd actually be kind of upset if you didn't."

She's looking at him with such sincerity that he finds he's a bit overwhelmed by it all, a bit unsteady, because she's placed her trust in him from practically the first moment they'd met, and he's not entirely sure what he's done to deserve it. He doesn't dare hope that she feels for him even a tenth of what he feels for her.

"Regina, I'm a reporter. Why do you trust me?"

Her gaze drops to his hand for the briefest of moments before her eyes are back on his. She studies him, a small smile on her face, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, and he waits.

"Because you see me for who I really am. Not as the Queen."

She looks away from him and her smile disappears as she stands, moves closer. "And you treat me like a person, not like the property of the King."

He has to remind himself to breathe.

He reaches for her right hand, maintains eye contact all the while as he brings it to his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, letting his lips linger for the briefest of moments. That makes her smile return, and he holds her hand between them as she says, "It was good to see you, Robin. Thank you for coming and, um, thank you for your article. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for trusting me, Regina. I promise you, I won't let you down."

With that, he lets go of her hand, pulls on his jacket properly, and then he's walking towards the kitchen. Once at the kitchen doors, he looks back for one last glimpse of her. He knows she doesn't have anything on her schedule for at least the next ten days, so he won't see her for a while. He misses her already.

She's standing there beside her chair, watching him, and she smiles when she sees him turn, lifts her hand in a little wave.

He gives her a wave in return, and then he's gone.

…

It's two weeks before he sees her again, and he's standing with the rest of the press in a palace state room just outside the ballroom, waiting for the annual Embassy Ball to begin. It's a night where the crème de la crème of the diplomatic corps and of society in general descend upon the palace for a night of fine foods, classical music, and ballroom dancing.

It's Robin's first time covering the event, but he finds that the butterflies in his stomach have nothing to do with his job, and everything to do with seeing the stunning Queen once more.

They hadn't been able to text much during the past two weeks; he'd texted her the morning after her birthday, just a simple _How's it going, milady?_ to which she'd replied with _I'm alright. Headed to the summer palace; Leo wants to spend the next two weeks until the Embassy Ball there and I've been *summoned*. Reception sucks out there, I'll text you when I'm back in the city._

So he hasn't seen her, nor has he spoken to her in almost two weeks, even though he finds his mind wandering to her every so often throughout the day.

_Her hair, her eyes, her lips. Her voice, her laugh, her touch._

A few paparazzi shots had surfaced, of Regina on the grounds of the palace riding her horse at a canter, hair billowing in the wind, but the pictures had been incredibly grainy, giving away that they'd been taken at a great distance. No self-respecting royal reporter would dare share those with the public. But Robin couldn't help looking at those photos from time to time when he was alone, had occasionally opened the email containing the pictures, eyes taking in every grainy detail, wondering what she was doing down at the summer palace, how she was spending her days, whether the King was treating her well, making up for his horrid behaviour on her birthday.

Then, this morning, his phone had pinged with the special ringtone he'd set for her, and he'd practically lunged for his phone before the chime had even ended.

_Are you covering the Ball tonight?_

He'd responded immediately with an _Of course, milady,_ had gotten a text of _Good.:)_ back right away. it wasn't much, but it had made his day. Hell, it had made his week.

All of the diplomats with their spouses and all of the other distinguished guests are making their way through the stateroom where the press has gathered before entering the grand ballroom. Robin's been assigned to the right side of the state room behind a low barrier set up specially for the occasion, while other members of the media are assembled on the left. He's wearing a tux for the first time in his life, and it's so bloody uncomfortable that he can't stop himself from fidgeting, and he think he must have been standing there for ages and how many diplomats can there really be? It feels like four hundred of them have already passed through, and there's no sign yet of the Royal Family, who are supposed to enter last.

There are middle-aged TV royal correspondents standing just in front of him, and he overhears them chatting about the Princess Snow.

"I can't believe it's already time for Snow's first ball. It feels like it was just yesterday that she was a sweet little toddler waving to us from the door of her primary school on her first day, and now she's sixteen! Practically a woman." the female reporter in the elegantly cut white and black dress is saying.

The man in a tux similar to Robin's beside her hums in agreement. "It's just a shame that Queen Eva isn't here to see her daughter tonight. I'm sure she would be so proud of the lovely young woman the Princess has become."

"I'm not sure what she would think of her replacement though," the man scoffs.

The woman chuckles. "Well, she certainly wouldn't have to worry about being replaced in the people's hearts. If anything, the new queen is making their affection for Eva grow stronger. She just doesn't seem as open, as caring. It's like she doesn't even care about the public, like she thinks she's better than us common folk."

It makes Robin see exactly why Regina had been so insistent on being interviewed by a new reporter, and he feels a flash of irritation at his colleagues for being so set in their opinions, for not giving Regina a proper chance.

He can't help it, he cuts in. "Look, I'm sure she's doing her best. I think the Queen really does care about the people. Eva was Queen for almost two decades. Regina has been Queen for little more than a year. If you would just give her a chance, I'm sure she would surprise you."

They turn to look at him, surprise painted on their faces. The woman narrows his eyes at him. "You're Robin Locksley, aren't you? You got the exclusive with her. Tell me, what did she offer you in return for writing nice things about her?"

Robin bristles at the implications latent in her tone. "I wrote the truth. As journalists should." He doesn't get a chance to say more, though, because suddenly there's a commotion among the press closer to the door and whispers of "It's the Royals!" make their way down to Robin, and the reporters in front of him turn away from him to crane their necks to the door.

The King walks in first, dressed in a tux like the rest of the men, but with various honours and insignia on his lapel. He's arm in arm with his daughter, who's wearing a white sparkling ball gown, her hair swept back into an elaborate chignon, a beautiful diamond and pearl tiara on her head. Murmurs run through the press at the sight of her, because it's the tiara that her mother wore for her wedding to Leopold. Robin sees that some of the reporters around him are tearing up at the sight of her, and it is quite sentimental, Robin must admit, but his eyes are pulled from the King and the Princess because now the Queen has appeared in the doorway, the newly elected Prime Minister, Malinka Drake (who the press had come to nickname "Maleficent" during the election campaign for her take-no-prisoners attitude), at her side.

His eyes quickly take in the Prime Minister, who is wearing a deep purple off-the-shoulder column dress. She's not looking at the press, instead she's looking at Regina, appears to be saying something to the Queen.

Then his eyes are on Regina, and she's breathtaking.

She's wearing a tiara, just like Snow, but it's more simple, just delicate, thin fans and arches of diamonds, culminating in larger diamonds at five points. Her dark hair hangs falls loose down her back, but strands of it are twisted away from her face beneath her tiara, tied together elaborately at the back of her head. Her lips are painted red, her eye make-up dark and smoky. The dress she wears - oh, god - the dress. It's a light yellow, flowing dress with capped sleeves, sheer lace over her shoulders and collar bones. With every movement of her legs, the floor-to-mid-thigh slit reveals her toned and tanned right leg, her silver strappy, open-toed stilettos. There's a train, it seems that it starts somewhere under her scapula where the lace ends, fabric draping out behind her.

He hears a photographer beside him exhale a _Damn_ between the flashes of his camera, and it makes him chuckle, makes him think _I feel you, buddy._

The Prime Minister may be speaking to her, but the Queen's eyes are not on her companion as she walks down the corridor past the ranks of the press. Instead, her eyes are searching the faces of the reporters and photographers, her eyebrow furrowed, like she's looking for someone. And then she's walking right by Robin, and the moment she notices him, a smile floods her face, and she gives an almost imperceptible nod.

He grins back, returns her nod, and then she turns to Drake, saying something to her as they approach the door to the ball room and are out of sight.

Robin sighs, then whips out his phone to tweet the details of the gowns that the palace has probably sent by email to the press by now and to text the details of the royal entrance to Sidney, is surprised to see that he has an unread text. He'd turned his ringer off when he'd left his flat for the palace, had put his phone on vibrate, but he's surprised he didn't feel it.

It's from her.

_I'd like to see you at some point tonight. Wait for my text._

She'd sent it only a few minutes ago...she hadn't been carrying a clutch, though, and he feels his face redden as his mind wanders to just where she might be keeping her phone.

His fingers fly over his screen as he shoots a text back. _As you wish, milady. And if I may say, you look absolutely stunning tonight._

Then the press is being rounded up, ushered into an adjoining state room filled with cocktail tables and side tables filled with finger foods. It's the reception for the press, a place where they can wait while those in the main dining room have their five-course meal, where they can network and chat while they wait to be allowed into the ballroom for the speeches and the dancing. Not all of the press are allowed into the ballroom though; the ones from the fashion magazines and the tabloids and the internet news sites leave quickly, while the smaller group of photographers and main newspaper journalists and major television news reporters remain for a snack and a chat while they wait, some focused intently on their phones as they relay bits of news to their main offices.

Robin moves over to a side table, picks up a small piece of a chicken pesto pizza, and wanders over to a cocktail table where he recognizes the royal correspondent from the country's biggest news outlet, August Booth. He's been on the job for the past seven years, and Robin has gotten to know him over the past few months at various events. He'd been friendly to him, had kindly given Robin bits of advice when he'd seen him flustered, even though technically speaking, Robin is the competition and he absolutely didn't need to help him. So he likes the guy, thinks he's fairly decent, and he isn't as prone to gratuitously praising the king as are some of his other colleagues.

August sees him approaching. "Robin, hey. You did a really great job on that article about the Queen. Guess you don't need me to show you the ropes anymore since you've found yourself a royal insider," he teases.

Robin laughs, thanks him, and they talk about work and catch up until a royal usher announces that they can make their way into the ballroom now, the King is about to give his speech.

...

She's bored out of her _mind_.

This stupid dinner is stretching on and on and _on._

She'd been in conversation with Prime Minister Drake before the dinner had started, had found the woman fascinating, thinking that she'd found a kindred spirit in her. Malinka was feisty, powerful, didn't care what her critics said about her and most importantly, perhaps, she didn't fawn over the King like her predecessor; Regina admired the older woman, had hoped for a chance to chat more with her, but they hadn't been seated at the same table for dinner.

Instead, Regina was stranded at a table with the newly appointed Minister of Finance, the ambassador of the country's biggest trading partner, the heads of two of the largest microfinance NGOs in the country, and their spouses. They were all older than even Leopold and just so horribly _dull._ After exchanging a few pleasantries, they'd inundated her with tales about their children, all of whom seemed to be either Regina's age or older. She'd felt the familiar twinge of jealousy when the Minister of Finance had so proudly shared that his 25 year old daughter had decided to take a year off after graduating from law school to travel the world with her boyfriend, before she'd be back to accept a job offer at the country's largest firm. Hearing stories about women her age, having the freedom to live their lives, to make their own decisions, to follow their hearts to who they loved and have their parents be actually _proud_ of them? Well, that sounded like a dream come true to Regina. But then the Minister and the ambassador and the NGO heads had started talking about finance and trade statistics and their spouses had started to gossip about people she'd never heard of from the country club they were all members of, and Regina had gotten so bored she'd wanted to stick pins in her eyes.

At least the food was good.

And there was alcohol.

Leopold had walked past her table earlier on his way to check in on how Snow was doing at the table with the Minister of Environment, had stood behind her chair and rubbed his hands down her arms in a way that had made her skin crawl while the others at the table had simply smiled at the pair. _Honestly, would you still be smiling if your daughter was sitting in my spot?_ He'd leant down to whisper in her ear, trying to make it look affectionate as he'd ordered her through a tight smile to limit her alcohol intake, or people would start to think she's an alcoholic. _And_ _for Pete's sake, don't look so fucking bored_.

She'd pointedly reached for her wine glass at that, had taken a sip before playing her part in this ridiculous farce by saying with false sweetness, loudly enough for the table to hear, "You too, darling."

He'd squeezed her shoulders a bit too hard at that, and then he'd left her.

She couldn't wait until the speeches were over and the dancing began, because then, _then_ she'll be able to sneak out to the garden.

To see the man with the lion tattoo.

...

The snippets of the King's speech that Robin actually paid attention to were filled with superficial pronouncements about working together and taking the time to understand each other to overcome differences. Honestly, he wasn't listening. As hard as he'd tried to concentrate on the King, his eyes had kept wandering over to the Queen, seated at a table filled with middle-aged couples, one of whom he recognized as the Finance Minister and his wife. He could only see her profile from where he stood in the back of the ballroom with the rest of the press, but every time his eyes fell on her raven hair, her olive skin, the King's voice had just faded to the background.

Good thing he has his recorder.

His eyes are taking in the curve of her jaw, the slope of her neck, when suddenly he notices that August is clapping beside him. That snaps him out of it; the King is calling the Princess to the podium.

"It my most sincere pleasure to welcome my daughter, Her Royal Highness Princess Snow White, to her first official ball. My darling Snow, your mother looked forward to this day from the moment you took your first step. She used to say that you were such a graceful baby, that you would be just as graceful on the dance floor. I know that Eva would be so proud of the young woman you have become. Every day, you grow more and more beautiful, and now you truly are the fairest in all the land, just like your mother before you. I am only sad that she is not here to be with us on this happy day. Now, my daughter, would you indulge your papa and grant me the first dance?"

The orchestra begins to play a waltz as Snow takes her father's hands and lets him lead her to the dance floor. After a few moments, other couples start to join them.

Robin's gritting his teeth. He can see August watching him from the corner of his eye.

They're both royal reporters. It's their job to be able to answer every little question about the royals, about their lives, about their constitutional role, about the protocol required at every event. They _know_.

It may not seem like it to the untrained eye, may just seem like a doting father taking his daughter for a spin around the dance floor during her first ball, and it would be just that if it was at any other point later in the evening. But this is the first dance.

It's an insult.

Protocol dictates that the King and the Queen share the first dance at any ball. The King is notoriously fastidious about following protocol, down to the smallest detail, in every single aspect of his life, and now he's clearly broken it, to Regina's detriment. Not that Robin believes that she actually looks forward to dancing with the King, but the simple fact that she hasn't danced the first dance with the King means that she won't be able to dance for the rest of the evening. No one would dare breach protocol to ask the Queen to dance when she hasn't done so with the King.

Not only is it a brush off by the King, but it's just so _callous_ and insensitive.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and his eyes move from the King and the Princess dancing to Regina's table.

Her chair is empty.

_The doors to your right lead to the garden. Meet me under the apple tree._ _Down the stairs, right, then left._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

Regina ambles her way towards the apple tree in the garden, feeling a delicious buzz from the wine she’d had with dinner. She feels light, and happy, and hopeful, because it’s been a long two weeks since she’s seen Robin and she  _misses_ him.

She’d missed him the entire time she had been at the summer palace, had wished more than once while she’d been sitting alone on her balcony, overlooking the lush forest and mountains that surrounded the palace, that he could be there with her. That he could be there, sitting by her side, gazing with her at the twinkling of the millions of stars visible above the summer palace that were hidden by the light pollution of the city. Each night that she’d sat alone on her balcony, she’d found herself daydreaming about him, concocting different scenarios, running imaginary conversations through her head. Had imagined that he’d reach for her hand, kiss it again like he had on her birthday, his stubble against her smooth skin sending shivers through her, then he’d pull her close…place a kiss on her lips…run his fingers through her hair…caress her cheek with his thumb. Or she’d be leaning on the railing of her balcony, chin resting in her palm,  _aching_ for him to relieve her loneliness, to appear like magic, to wrap his strong arms around her waist, to press kisses to her neck as she’d lean her head back into his shoulder, placing her own hands on top of his, then turning back to face him, taking her hand in his, leading him back into her room to her bed…

The air is cool, nipping at her bare arms, but it’s refreshing after the warmth of the ballroom. She stumbles, almost rolls her ankle when she steps on a chestnut on the ground.  _Oops._

She reaches the little patio area with her apple tree in middle, sits down on the bench that surrounds the tree, and pulls out her phone to check for Robin’s reply.

_I’ll be right there, milady._

Regina grins, pleased, puts her phone away and waits for the man with the lion tattoo. He can’t be far behind her.

The patio is surrounded by ten foot hedges, with only one entrance, just off the garden’s overgrown, dilapidated maze. The patio is circled with garden lights, casting a hazy glow in the darkness of the night.  The perfect place for a secret meeting.

It’s been barely a minute since she’s put her phone away when she hears soft footfalls on the mossy cobblestone path of the maze.

She stands, and she can’t help her grin when she sees the dimpled reporter. He’s smiling at her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and there’s something in the set of his jaw that makes her think something’s upset him.

That wipes the grin off her face.  _No, this isn't_   _how this is supposed to go._

"What is it, Robin?"

He stops a few metres away from her, shakes his head as he rubs a hand across his chin. He looks pissed. She can't help but think that he's upset with her, that maybe he's annoyed because of the commanding tone of her text, that he's angry that she's pulling him away from his job, and she feels a flare of irritation cutting through her buzz because if that's the case then he'd just have to  _say so,_  she'd understand,and she's opening her mouth to tell him that but he explodes before she has a chance.

"I just - it's just - the King just gave a speech in there that will be shared with the entire country - and - and he just can't seem to fucking move on from Eva and he acted like you weren't even  _there,_ like you didn't exist _,_  and now he's dancing with the Princess, when he's supposed to be dancing with you - and - and it's so disrespectful to you and I just - the King doesn't - he doesn't realize what he's got right in front of him."

_Oh._

So he's not upset with her. He's mad at Leopold for ignoring her. 

And usually she'd be a little upset at having been ignored in public too, but being ignored tonight doesn't bring the usual feelings of rejection and embarrassment, because it means she can sneak away to see Robin. Which she would much rather be doing than dancing with Leo.

She sits back down, the fabric of her dress falling around her thigh, leaving it exposed to the night air. She doesn’t move to cover it.

"Do you honestly think I'd have snuck out of the ball to be here, with you, if the King and I had a happy marriage? If it was anything but a ridiculous farce?"

His jaw goes slack at that, he's staring at her with surprise, awe, and something else...

 "It's not love," Regina sighs. "God knows we can barely tolerate each other. I'm 24, Robin. He's 53. We have nothing in common. Eva was the love of his life; he'll never be able to love another ever again. He told me that on our wedding night."

"Then - why did you get married?"

She rolls her eyes, huffs, the familiar rage and resentment bubbling up deep inside her. She's definitely not tipsy anymore.

"Snow was following me around like a puppy dog after I saved her from the barn fire, prattling on about me endlessly to her father. She told him how much she admired me, how much she wished I was part of their family, how much she wished for a mother like me after her own had passed away. My age didn't matter, because Leo's incapable of denying his 'precious angel' of anything, so when he proposed, my mother accepted." She mimics her mother's condescending tone. "Regina, dear, one does not simply refuse the  _King_."

"God, I hate him," he bites. But then she hears him sigh, and he's moving to sit down beside her, the warmth of his thigh pressing against her bare one. Regina turns to face him.

"And -," his voice is quiet, barely even a whisper. "And, me? Why did you decide to sneak out here to meet  _me_?"

She smiles. "Because I missed you." She reaches for his right hand, but the cuff of his dress shirt covers his lion tattoo. "And I feel quite drawn to you." She creeps her index finger under his sleeve, strokes the skin on the inside of his wrist over his tattoo, delighting in the stuttered breath he lets out in response to her touch. "And I haven't been able to think of much else but you for the past two weeks, really."

She looks up at him from beneath her lashes, and she can't help the flare of exhilaration she feels, because he looks so...breathless, and affected by her words, by her touch, his jaw slack and his eyes roaming over her face, coming to rest on her lips.

"Did  _you_  miss me?" she asks coyly, her face gravitating closer to his.

His eyes move from her lips to her eyes. For a moment neither of them seem to be able to breathe. 

But then Robin's eyes flick down to her lips again, back up to her eyes. "Madly," he whispers.

She smirks, "Good," and then she leans forward, closing the distance between them, bringing her mouth to meet his, eyes fluttering closed.

But just before her lips are on his, he's pulling away, disentangling his hand from her grasp.

It wounds her, and she can't help the expression of hurt painted across her face as she opens her eyes and watches him stand, walk a few paces away from her. Her thigh is cold where his body was keeping it warm just moments ago.

She feels the familiar pull of rejection creep up inside her. She wants to cry.  _It's all in my head. The stupid fortune teller_ was _a phony._

"Regina." He says her name softly, his back to her. "We can't."

"Forget it," she murmurs, "This was a mistake." She stands, walks on shaky legs across the patio, back to the palace. Back to sitting by herself, alone, in a room crammed with people, all following the King's lead and ignoring her, back to having to watch as everyone else dances, as everyone else lives their lives, happy, free. Tears sting at the back of her eyes.

Robin stops her with a hand on her wrist. "Regina." She doesn't turn around. 

"I - I want to kiss you. So badly." His voice is so soft, she has to strain to hear him. She turns to look at him then, hope surging back into her. He has a conflicted expression on his face, his blue eyes staring back into her brown ones.

"But?"

"But - you're married."

She scoffs. "Not willingly."

"And I'm a reporter. It's my _job_ to write articles about you, about the King, and - and -  _ethically_ , I'm not sure -"

Regina moves towards him, stops in front of him.

"Was it  _ethical_ when you came to visit me at the palace on my birthday? When you had to lie to the guards about why you were here?"

"I don't -"

Her voice is more forceful this time. "Is it  _ethical_ for you to keep my cell number, to use it to text me whenever you want?"

He's shaking his head. "No -"

"So we've already gone past the point of what's  _ethical._ "

He nods, his eyebrows furrowing, and then he lets out a deep sigh, his eyes falling shut for a moment.

“You’re right.” He swallows, his eyes never leaving hers, and then, "I - I've - I've never felt like this. I feel this deep connection to you, Regina, and I want - I want to be with you. To kiss you and make you laugh, and be there for you when you need it and I'd like to take you on a date like we're just normal people in our twenties but it's killing me that I can't - that you're already taken - "

He breaks off, shaking his head, eyebrows pinched.

Regina places her hands on his chest, index fingers moving over his lapel in small circles. She keeps her eyes focused on his bow-tie as she says, "Can we just - let's just pretend the King doesn't exist for a moment? That I'm not the Queen, that you're not a royal reporter, that it's just us, two people in their twenties who care about each other, here, right now?"

He's smiling down at her now, eyes gone soft. "You care about me too?"

Regina rolls her eyes, gently pushes at his shoulder with one of the hands on his lapel. "I tried to kiss you, didn't I?"

He steps closer to her, wraps his arms around her, his hands coming to rest at the small of her back.

It feels like  _home._ It's a feeling that she hasn't had since Daniel, at least not in her waking hours - in her dreams, well, that's a different story.

She moves her hands to his biceps, brushes her fingertips against his muscles, smiles up at him.

For the first time in a long while, she feels safe.

And then, finally, he kisses her.

.....

It's dangerous, oh so dangerous, here on the palace grounds where a guard might walk by on patrol, or spot them over the hedges from his station on the roof of the palace. His career is on the line, his reputation is on the line, and who knows what would happen to Regina if someone saw them. Who knows what the King would do. What the public would say.

He's knows it's dangerous, he knows they shouldn't be doing this, not here, not now, not when she's the Queen, but it just feels so  _right_ and Robin doesn't understand it, but he finds he never wants to let Regina go. Not when he's doing something he'd never allowed himself to hope he would do.

He's kissing Regina. And she's kissing him right back. Enthusiastically.

Regina moves her hands from his arms to wind them around his neck and his arms move to hold her closer to him. He strokes her back over the fabric of her dress with one hand, while the other moves up to twine a strand of her hair around his finger. 

Regina's tongue swipes gently across Robin's bottom lip, and he parts his lips to deepen the kiss. They stand there for a few moments kissing deeply. 

Her lips taste like wine.

When the lack of air becomes too much, they part, and as Regina draws her lips from his, she nuzzles her nose against his. Robin plants a sloppy kiss on her face at that, somewhere on her cheek between her mouth and her nose, relishing in the breathy chuckle she lets out at that.

Robin rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed, as their breathing evens out.

"Will you dance with me?" 

His eyes snap open at her quiet request. Their foreheads are no longer touching, and her hands are grasping his wrists, his hands gently cupping her face. She's beaming at him, eyebrows raised in silent question. "Not back there, I mean - here."

He grins back at her. He still can't quite believe that she cares about him the way he cares about her.

They're far enough away from the palace that they can't hear the orchestra through the open doors and windows. "There's nothing I'd want more, milady, but I'm afraid there's no music." 

She gently moves his hands away from her face with the hands on his wrists, turns and walks back to the bench around the apple tree to pick up her phone. She turns back to him, waving the phone slightly in her hand. 

"It's not exactly waltz-y music -"

He chuckles. "Good. Because I don't know how to waltz." 

Her face falls for a moment, and she murmurs something that sounds like, "Neither do I."

It's odd, that. That a Queen doesn't know how to ballroom dance, but then he supposes that if the King prefers to dance with his daughter rather than his wife at the biggest ball of the year, maybe it's because she's never had the chance to learn. And she's young, so young, just like him, and who really knows how to waltz these days anyway?

He walks over to stand beside her, takes her hand in his, runs his thumb over the back of her hand in a caress and watches as her other hand scrolls through her phone. Her lips curl up in a small smile, and she taps the screen, puts the volume to the maximum, and sets the phone back down on the bench.

The strum of a guitar fills the night air, and Robin recognizes Ed Sheeran's voice instantly, if not the song.

He chuckles at the first line. "You do look wonderful in that dress." He reaches for her then, places his hands at her waist as she winds her arms around his neck.

She  whispers softly back to him. "And your eyes are as blue as the Tenerife Sea."

There's something in her bottomless dark eyes, the way she's looking up at him, and the softness of her voice that has a deep emotion - like indescribable happiness, maybe, he thinks, or sheer gratefulness that this wonderful woman seems to be as taken with him as he is with her - swelling up within him. He gently tugs her closer, places a kiss at her temple affectionately.

The music is soft, quiet, only as loud as the phone's speakers' will allow, but it's enough for the two of them. They move slowly from side - to - side, swaying together to Ed Sheeran.

Regina's cheek is against his shoulder now, and he tilts his head to rest his cheek on top of her head and - 

"Ow!" The tip of the diamond on the tallest point of her tiara has jabbed him right in the cheek.

She lifts her head off his shoulder, winces up at him in apology. "Sorry. I'd take it off but - forty-five minutes, a half-bottle of hairspray, and about fifty bobby-pins later, it's not going anywhere."

Robin chuckles, murmurs "S'alright. I quite like the way you look in a tiara."

He watches as she bites her lip, and he thinks she's about to say something back, but then she leans forward again to rest her cheek against his shoulder, her face turned in towards his neck. He can feel her breath there, against the skin of his neck as she lets out a contented sigh. He closes his eyes, tries to capture this moment, to remember it and hold it forever. The way her body moulds into his, the way her fingers are swirling a pattern at the base of his skull sending little shocks straight to his toes.

Regina doesn't move when the song comes to an end, instead stays in his arms, swaying, while her phone makes the transition from Ed Sheeran to Adele's crooning voice.

He wonders if it's a coincidence that one song perfect for a romantic slow dance plays immediately after the first, or if she has a playlist set up. He thinks of her, all alone in the palace, trapped in a loveless marriage, listening to a playlist of slow love songs, and it makes him pull her closer, though there'd been less than a centimetre between them before, makes him want her to feel his love, even if it's too soon to say those words to her. 

.....

She'd never thought she'd have this.

She'd never thought she'd have this ever again, not after the way Daniel had been taken away from her so cruelly, so tragically.

Regina thinks back to how adamant she had been that she could never imagine a future without Daniel, a future where she didn't love him. But she'd had to imagine one, because he's gone, dead and buried, and she'd imagined that a future without Daniel would mean a future without love.

But here, in Robin's arms, swaying together as Adele sings softly in the background, his heart beating fast against her chest, she feels something blooming within her, and it seems too soon to call it love, but deep down she knows that's what it is.

She's falling in love with the man with the lion tattoo.

She knows it's ridiculous, maybe a little pathetic even, for someone to fall so easily. But being with Robin is so easy. So right. He doesn't seem to expect anything of her, doesn't want her to be someone she's not, doesn't want her to change to please him, only wants her to be  _Regina._ And if the fortune teller is right, if Robin is her soul mate - and she really feels that he might be, and who'd've thought that she would put so much weight behind the words of a town fair fortune teller - if they are destined to be together, if it's  _written in the stars,_ than what she feels make sense, doesn't it?

It makes her happy -  _he_ makes her happy. And lord knows she could use that in her life right now. She could use  _him_ in her life right now.

And so she stays there, in his arms, as her playlist of slow and romantic songs plays into the night, and thinks it's a miracle that nothing has disturbed them, that no one has come looking for her.

Her head still rests against his shoulder, but their feet aren't moving anymore, they're just swaying together. She moves her face closer to his neck, presses a kiss there, just above his collar, feels his rough stubble against the softness of her cheek, listens to his hum of appreciation as one of his hands coasts up and down her back.

Maybe something's watching over them, glad that they've found their way to each other.

 It's a silly thought, she thinks, one more suited to her stepdaughter than her, but who knows what's going to happen after tonight, what their future will hold, so, for now, she's perfectly happy to just have this.

And she hopes that if something is watching over them, that it'll prevent everything from crashing down around her later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are what keep me writing, so please let me know what you think!:)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

It's the buzzing that wakes him. Something is buzzing.

He's lying on his stomach, legs splayed out over the width of his bed, hands tucked under his pillow. Whatever is buzzing seems to be coming from somewhere near where his right hand rests on the mattress.

Still somewhere between sleep and awareness, he thinks that it must be his phone, though that's odd that it's on his bed and not on its usual spot on his nightstand.

Eyes still half-closed against the sunlight pouring in through his windows (he'd forgotten to draw his curtains the night before, it seems), he fumbles to reach for the phone, nearly knocking it off the bed before grabbing it and swiping the screen to answer without bothering to check the caller ID.

"Yeamh?" he mumbles as he lazily brings the phone to his ear, the one not pressed up against the pillow, resting the phone there against his cheek more than holding it.

"Oh - sorry. Did I wake you?"

It's her voice that pulls him into full consciousness immediately. He grasps the phone more tightly to his ear, moves onto his elbows, grinning giddily as the memories from the night before instantly rush back into his mind - the lights, the jewels, the dancing, practically floating back to his flat after the ball, lying in bed texting her into the wee hours of the morning…he must have fallen asleep with his phone in his hand, he thinks.

He clears his throat before responding, "Don't worry about it. I can't say I mind being woken by a call from you, milady. It's rather pleasant, actually."

Robin hears a brief chuckle from her end - more of a contented exhale, really. He glances at the clock on his night table. 10:43 blinks back at him. He doesn't usually sleep in this late, even after a late night, even on a Saturday, but last night was just…magical. Sparkling. Flawless. He'd felt more relaxed and happier than he's felt in ages - hence the deep sleep, probably.

"I'm glad," Regina says softly, and he can hear her smile in her voice. "I - I just - wanted to say hi, I suppose. And good morning."

"Good morning, milady," he responds warmly.

"I'm surprised you weren't already awake. I was sure that an intrepid reporter like yourself would be up early to get all the details of last night out to the public before your competition."

Her voice is velvety, a bit higher than usual, her tone light, teasing, and it's so different from the voice she uses when she's in public, when there are others around, but he's become accustomed to this voice in the moments he's spent with her, has started to wonder if it's a voice she uses only for him, or if there are others in her life privileged enough to hear it too. He hopes it's the former - the idea that there's a part of her that she reserves for only him, that she may never grant the rest of the world - or the king, even - the opportunity to see this side of her - it has his stomach fluttering, his heart pounding just a little bit harder.

He rolls onto his back, still holding the phone tightly to his ear. "Well, this intrepid reporter has an editor who's become a bit stingy with bylines since my royal exclusive. I sent him all my material from last night and he's writing the articles about the ball."

She hums in response.

"And a good thing, too, because after the enchanting evening I had with you, milady, I'm not sure I'd be able to push those memories aside to focus on writing. It'd be all run-on sentences and unfinished thoughts."

She hums again, and then, "We can't have that, can we?"

His voice is playful as he responds, "No, or my editor would think I've gone daft and probably fire me. And I'd quite like to keep my job - it's the best I've ever had. Especially recently, now that I have my very own royal insider."

"Ah, so that's what all this is about for you?" she flirts, "Seducing me in order to have someone on the inside so you can out-scoop the competition?"

He chuckles - he knows from her tone that she's teasing, but he needs her to hear it, he needs to assure her that it is more than that. Much more than that.

He moves to sit, leans his back into his headboard. "Regina," he says, putting aside his flirty tone in favour of a voice turned low and serious with sincerity, "It's more than that. If you feel even a tenth of what I feel, you know it's more than that."

"I know," she says, matching the sincerity of his tone, before she turns hesitant, says slowly, "And that's another reason for why I'm calling."

"Oh?" he breathes out.

"Robin, I had a wonderful time last night, and I've really enjoyed spending time with you and getting to know you. But -"

He deflates at her words, because it sounds like the beginning of a break-up speech more than anything else, and he knows that ending things would be what's right, what's proper, what's safe, so he stops her before she can go on, before she says those words that will crush him. "I understand."

"What - what do you understand?"

"We - this - can't go on. There's too much at stake."

She lets out a sigh. "That's not what I was going to say. It's true, but I wasn't going to say that what we have has to end." The gnawing in his stomach fades away as hope trickles back in. "Unless…that's - that's what you want?"

"No!" he bursts out, then pauses to regain his composure before continuing, "That's not what I want. Sorry, what were you going to say, milady?"

"It's going to be difficult, but if you're willing -"

There's a sudden crash on her end of the phone. He's about to call out her name before he hears someone else doing so already. Robin thinks he recognizes the voice, even though it's muffled, as if the phone were pressed against some sort of fabric - it's the princess.

"What are you doing?" she's saying.

"Snow!" Regina exclaims, and her voice sounds like it's coming from the bottom of the ocean, but he can make out every word. Robin sits up straighter. "I'm just…finalizing my schedule for the week with Ruby. What is it, dear?"

"But Ruby's in her office downstairs. You didn't have to call her."

Robin holds his breath as he listens to the conversation taking place in the palace through the phone.

"Oh - well - I just…"

He hears Snow speak over her. "I was going to go for a walk in the park - to take pictures with the cherry blossoms for my Instagram and to feed the swans at the pond. I want you to come with me. We can take selfies!"

"I'll be right there." Regina's voice is muffled, defeated, a sharp contrast to the princess' bubbly, excited voice, and a second later she's speaking into the phone, just an "I'll talk to you later," and then her voice is fading away as she tells Snow that she's just going to get dressed, before the line goes dead.

…

It's as Regina's pulling on a pair of boyfriend jeans that she thinks that perhaps she could have stalled Snow for a while, could have continued talking to Robin for a few more minutes after sending Snow into her sitting room to wait for her while she got dressed, could have finished saying what she had meant to say when she had dialled his number earlier.

She stops, jeans still loose and unbuttoned around her thighs, reaches over to pick up her cell phone to send Robin a quick text.

I'm sorry for waking you up and then hanging up on you.

It's not even ten seconds after she's dropped her phone back onto her bed to button up her jeans that her phone lets out another chime, letting her know that Robin has replied. She sits down on her bed, slipping her feet into her shoes as she picks her phone back up to read his message.

Don't be. But I think that is a conversation best had in person.

He's right.

But she doesn't know when she'll see him again in order to have that conversation.

Well, she knows she'll see him at her engagements this week, that he'll be there in the ranks of the press, but she won't even be able to acknowledge him, let alone have a deep and meaningful conversation with him in front of the eyes of the world. Let alone actually be with him.

You're right, but I don't know when we'll be able to have a moment alone together. You can't come to the palace when Leo is here and he won't let me go anywhere by myself.

Regina stares at her screen for a few moments, oscillating between sending the text or erasing it and typing something a bit less candid. She thinks To hell with it and hits send.

She sighs and wishes things didn't have to be so complicated as she grabs a pair of sunglasses on her way to the door to her sitting room to join her step-daughter.

Snow is perched on the edge of the settee, staring at her iPhone in her hand with a gigantic grin on her face. Regina knows her step-daughter to be perpetually happy, always has a smile on her face, but this seems a bit much, even for her.

"You look like you've been kissed by a rainbow," Regina observes wryly, eyebrows rising as her stepdaughter's head shoots up to look at her, eyes gone wide in what looks like…guilt?

"Snow?"

Snow's mouth hangs open for a few seconds before she relents and says, "Don't say anything to Daddy yet, but…I met someone. At the ball. Last night."

Regina's eyebrows shoot further up towards her hairline. Well, that's an interesting development.

"We've been texting ever since and I really like him, and I think this has the potential to be a really strong, loving relationship. Like you and Daddy."

No. Regina internally recoils at Snow's words, at the implication that she and the King love each other, that they have a healthy relationship, like she didn't just initiate an affair last night with the man she actually cares about. But she can't let Snow see her flinch, would only have to deal with Leopold's anger for giving Snow something to worry about, so she schools her features into a small smile for her step-daughter.

"What's his name?"

"David Nolan, but I've been calling him Charming, like Prince Charming, you know? His dad's an ambassador. He's asking if he can join us in the park…please, Regina, I'm going to need your help to keep this a secret."

The irony of the situation is not lost on Regina. For a moment, the rage and resentment she's kindled for Snow since that fatal day two years ago bubbles up to the surface, wants to deny her the happiness she had been denied by her actions, but then another face flashes in front of her mind's eye. A face with dimples that appear with every smile, with eyes as blue as the sea, replacing her rage with exhilaration, with joy, and she thinks that piece by piece, she'll be able to let go of her anger, will be able to make room for love in her life once more. And some of that love may even be for her bratty, if well-intentioned, step-daughter.

She stands and studies Snow for a few moments, stews over what to say, what to do. She'll have to say something to the King. She won't be able to keep him in the dark about something that concerns his precious daughter. But the king wouldn't be upset about the princess' relationship, would be happy for her, because he's nothing like her own mother when it comes to his child's happiness. As for the public, well, she can help her step-daughter on that regard. She does have an in with the media, after all. And maybe she can use this situation to her advantage…

Regina grins, feels a small weight lift off her shoulders as she lets go of some of that bitterness towards Snow White and tells her, "I'll help you."

…

Robin's in the kitchen area of his little studio flat, just a square metre of counter space beside an oven and a fridge. It's the most he's able to afford on a starter reporter's salary in this ridiculously expensive city, and it may be small, but it's close to the office and the palace, and it's home.

He's leaning against the counter, waiting for coffee to finish brewing. Over the noise of the coffee maker, he thinks he hears the chime of his cell. Robin pushes off the counter, walks the few steps to the couch where'd he thrown the phone a few minutes earlier. His phone had chimed, there's a message blinking up at him.

Actually, can you come to the park now?

A :D is his only responsebefore he drops his phone back down on the couch and rushes to get dressed, coffee forgotten.

Clothed in jeans and a gray long-sleeved polo, he grabs his keys and wallet off his night stand, hesitates for a moment before grabbing the book off his night stand as well, and then picks up his phone before heading out the door.

Glancing at his phone as he clatters down the stairs, Robin smiles to himself as he reads her response. I'll take that as a yes? I'll be on a bench in the horse chestnut tree orchard. Don't mind Jefferson.

…..

He sees Jefferson before he sees her, on the left side of the narrow pathway in the middle of the orchard, seated on a bench, reading a newspaper. But Robin doubts he's actually reading the newspaper; he's probably scanning the area, keeping an eye on his charge. Robin spots Regina directly across from Jefferson's bench, her back to him, as she's seated in the shade on the bench facing the denser part of the orchard rather than the bench right in front of it facing the path. Her raven hair is in a ponytail, sunglasses cover her eyes. Her lips aren't painted their usual shade of red, and she's dressed in light-blue jeans, a black v-neck, white sneakers. He wouldn't recognize her as the Queen if he hadn't been looking for her, if he hadn't seen Jefferson first.

The public park that's an extension of the palace's private gardens isn't very busy, even for a Saturday morning, and there isn't another soul in the orchard save for them. The leafy cover of the unmanicured trees and the unruly shrubs placed like a perimeter around the orchard all keep them hidden from anyone walking by on the park's busier pathways.

Regina glances over as he approaches, a small smile spreading across her face as she looks back down at the book in her hands, turns a page as he sits down on the other end of her bench, opening his own book.

"Milady."

"Hi, Robin," she murmurs through her grin, "I'm glad you came."

"Where's the princess?"

"Meeting a boy over by the cherry orchard. She wants to keep it a secret and I'm her cover, apparently. I'm giving them some alone time."

"So you can sneak in some of your own alone time?" he teases, stealing a glance at her from the corner of his eye, catching the way her face seems to fall slightly, as she bites her lower lip in an expression of doubt.

"Regina?"

"You're…not going to get annoyed are you? Dropping everything and coming whenever I happen to call? Just because I'm the Queen…it doesn't mean you have to do what I say." She's not looking at him, instead she's staring down at her book, her eyebrows furrowed.

He sighs, looks up at the way the leaves of the tree beside the bench rustle in the wind. "Milady, I'm here because I want to be here. I wanted to see you. And this is...complicated, and the truth of the matter is -" he lets out a brief chuckle as he continues, "I'm just a commoner. I'm free to meet whenever it's possible, but you're a royal, and there are constraints on your time, and constraints on when you can go in public, and on where you can go in public so that you can be incognito. So it's a bit of a given for me that if we are ever to have a moment alone, it's going to happen when you feel that it's an opportune time and place. And, yes, that does put the ball in your court, but...I don't mind because if it means getting to see you, I am more than happy to come whenever called. Even if it means I've left a coffee pot brewing at home."

He sneaks another look at her from the corner of his eye, sees that his words have brought the smile back to her face. Good. He doesn't want her to have doubts when it comes to how he feels.

She nods, turns another page, and then, "I don't know how you can function without coffee. I'm a monster in the morning before I've had a cup."

"But a very cute monster, I bet," Robin chuckles, realizes that he's quite blatantly staring at her, and that won't do, so he looks back down at his book.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure. Anyway - um - we have things to discuss, I guess. You've said that you enjoy spending time with me, and that you care about me, and you know I feel the same for you. But before this goes any further, I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into. Having an affair - because it is an affair - since I am married, even if I don't want to be, and an affair with a queen of all people is - is complicated, to say the least. The consequences of someone finding out would be...disastrous. So I suppose the question is whether what you feel is strong enough that you think this is worth it, even if our future is uncertain. If you think this is worth having to constantly look over your shoulder when we're together, to have to come up with alibis and excuses, to have to lie and keep secrets from everyone. I know how I feel, and I'm willing to risk it, if you are."

Robin lets out a deep sigh, runs a hand through his hair. Regina's entire body is tense as she waits for his response, he can see that from the corner of his eye. He wishes he could touch her, to run his fingers through her ponytail and tell her that it'll all be fine, that they'll figure it out, that love can prevail. "God, I wish I could kiss you."

"And that's another thing," she mutters drily, body still tense, "It's not even like we just have to hide from people we know. We have to hide from everyone, because you never know who could recognize me and take a picture to put on Twitter for the world to see. So unless we're in a room with the curtains drawn and it's just the two of us, we can't even hold hands. It's absurd. Is that something you're willing to deal with?"

He starts to shift to turn towards her on the bench, then thinks better of it and lets out a huff as he turns a page in his book. "You are worth all of that, and more, Regina. If it means we can be together, I'm willing to take my chances and sneak behind the king's - and the world's - back. No one will find out. We'll be careful. I want to be with you."

"And I'll never be able to divorce the King." She says it so quietly, he almost can't hear her, and he has to repeat the sounds she just made in his mind to figure out the words.

"Why not?"

...

Regina can't help but stare at him. He can't possibly be so naive to think things could be that simple.

"He's the King."

"Fifty years ago it would have been a constitutional scandal, but not anymore. This country has changed. The world has changed. And if you're unhappy with the King, why continue the charade? You're young, you have the rest of your life ahead of you, you shouldn't have to spend a minute longer than necessary tied to that wrinkly old toad." He says it so earnestly, like it's just so straightforward, and for a brief moment she wonders what that's like, to think it's so natural to extricate yourself from a situation you don't want to be in, to not feel trapped by obligations that other people have set for you. To be in control of your own life.

She drops her eyes to look at her book instead of at him, picks it up again, and whispers, "They'd kill me."

"The people? Regina, I'm a reporter, I can sway the public's perception of it, you don't have to -"

"I don't mean figuratively, and I don't mean the people."

She can see him taking in the area around them from the corner of her eye, probably checking to see if there's anyone around, and then he's reaching for her, taking her hand in his, resting their hands low against the bench so that they're hidden by their bodies from the sides, stroking a thumb across the back of her hand.

"If the King didn't, my mother would. Whether I want to or not, they've both made it clear I'm in this for life. There's no escape. But you, Robin - you make me happy, and you make me feel less trapped. I don't feel angry or powerless when I'm with you, and it's selfish, but I don't want to lose you. And I know that I can't expect you to want to stick around in such a situation, especially not forever, not when it means giving up a normal life, with the possibility of marriage and kids, so I know that eventually, you'll leave, but I want to be with you, for as long as you're willing to stay."

Regina doesn't dare look at him, instead keeps her eyes focused intently on the pages of her book, but she squeezes the hand that is holding hers. It's a minimal form of contact, but it's like it's grounding her, keeping her steady, making her feel safe, safe enough to voice her feelings, to share her thoughts with him.

"I will stay for as long as you will have me, Regina. And if that's forever, then I'll be there. Always."

The earnestness in his tone has tears pricking at the back of her eyes, and she wants to believe him, wants to believe that they are fated to be together and that he will stick around forever, but she's a realist, and she knows that no one in their right mind would want to stay in such a situation for the rest of their life, even if it is true love. He will leave someday, she's sure of it.

"Can you promise me that - that you'll at least say goodbye before you decide to leave? That you won't just cut me out and ignore me?"

"I won't leave, Regina," he says softly.

"Just promise me, please." There's an edge to her voice that she wishes wasn't there, but she can't help it.

He takes a deep breath before he obliges. "I promise."

With that, she withdraws her hand from his and brings it back to hold her book. The wind had rustled a few of the pages, and she smooths them back, holding them in place. She trusts Robin. She feels it in her gut, has felt it since that first day weeks ago when he'd come to interview her at the palace. She's dealt with enough hardship in her young life to know all good things come to an end, and so will this. But until that day, she'll hold onto the light he brings into her life, knowing that the day he leaves will bring the darkness back into her life, and it'll be darker than ever.

"I'd kiss you now, if I could," she flirts, her voice infinitely lighter than it had been only moments ago.

"Hmm, I'd like that. But I suppose we'll have to wait until Wednesday, if we can find a moment alone then."

Her nose scrunches slightly in confusion. What's on Wednesday? Then she remembers, "Oh, the Press Reception. I completely forgot about that." She lets out a small groan. "It was a disaster last year. I was so nervous about making a good impression that I completely clammed up and could barely maintain a conversation. That's why they all think I'm a snobby bitch."

She softens then, arches one eyebrow playfully as she looks at him from the corner of his eye. "But I'll feel more comfortable knowing you're there. And I know the perfect little spot in the palace to drag you away to when the reception gets boring."

He's grinning down at his book, biting his lip. She wants to do that for him, but she can't, not here in public where anyone can walk by. She hears someone clear their throat behind her, before she hears Jefferson say, "Ma'am, Princess Snow is on her way here to head back to palace with you for lunch."

Regina doesn't turn to look at Jefferson, keeps her eyes on Robin instead as she responds, "Thank you, Jefferson," and then says to Robin with a smile on her face, "You should go. I'll see you Wednesday."

He rises from the bench, closing his book. She can see the cover now, feels a rush of affection as it registers, because that's the book she'd told him was her favourite when he'd interviewed her. He'd told her he'd have to read it himself if she enjoyed it so much, and it seems he hadn't just been saying that to appease her. The spine is cracked and the pages look well-thumbed through - he didn't just buy it and leave it sitting on his shelf, he's actually read over half of it already, it looks like. It makes her smile grow wider, has something bubbling up in her throat so that she can only reply to his "Until then, milady" with a nod.

...

Hot. It's so hot.

The heat makes sweat run down her back, trickle off her forehead as she moves further into the building.

"DANIEL!" She screams, staggering through the barn, the smoke stinging at her eyes, choking her and making her cough.

A horse neighs somewhere, and she stops abruptly as its figure bursts through the smoke and flames and canters past her towards the exit, nearly trampling her.

"DANIEL!" she screams again, but this time, there's an answer to her call, a faint "Regina, here!" that she has to strain to hear. She moves past two horse stalls, peeks into the third and sees a figure huddled in the corner. "Daniel!" She rushes to him, grabs his arm to pull him off the ground. "What are you doing? We have to get out of here or we'll die!"

Except it's not Daniel, not this time. It's Robin. There's still that figure huddled under his arm though, and as she looks down she sees that his legs are still crushed from where a post had fallen on them.

"Regina. Take the princess. You have to get her out of here."

She lets a wracking sob as she kneels beside him. "I won't leave you."

Snow is crying at Robin's side, begging through her tears, "I just wanted to help get the horses out. I didn't realize - please help me, please."

"Regina. Please, get out of here. My legs - I can't move. You can't carry us both out. Take her, please."

Regina rests her forehead to his, grips his hand, and presses her lips to his before murmuring, "I love you. I'll send help, don't be scared. The firemen - I'll tell them you're here."

But he's shaking his head at her like it's useless, saying, "I love you, too. Goodbye, my darling."

It has another sob wrenching through her, and he's pulling his hand out of hers and putting the princess's hand in its place before he says, "Now, RUN!"

She does as she's told, grabs Snow up into her arms and runs as fast as she can for the exit.

They make it outside, and they're only a few feet from the barn before there's a loud BANG and the roof caves in, sending flames and sparks shooting into the night sky. She can hear the crash of beams falling and the splintering of wood.

Regina leaves the princess in the arms of a waiting paramedic, sobbing as she runs to the fire chief, grabbing his sleeve and screaming at him that he has to go inside, that there's someone trapped there.

It's as he's shaking his head at her, telling her if there is anyone still inside, they'd be dead by now, that the flames are too hot for even the firemen, when the sequence of events of that night changes slightly - she feels a strong grip on her upper arms, a hot breath against her ear, hears Leopold whispering into her ear, "It'll always end this way. You're mine. Forever."

She wakes with a start, pulse racing. It takes a moment for her to realize where she is, that she's not out by the barn, that she's not reliving that terrible night, that it's just a dream. Just a recurring dream that she's had every so often for the past two years, waking each time with tears streaming down her face as she relives the moment that she'd left Daniel in the barn, that the fireman had looked at her with such pity as she'd screamed at him to help her boyfriend. Each dream has a fresh wave of pain coursing through her for the rest of the day, has her wishing that her dreams would stop playing over and over again the worst night of her life.

But tonight, the dream had veered away from reality, because tonight, the man in the barn with his legs crushed had been Robin. It makes her anxious, has her reaching for her phone on her night table, sending him a text of Can I call you right now?

Regina can see light shining through under the curtains of her bedroom, letting her know that's its morning. She's going to see Robin later today, at the Press Reception, but right now, she just wants to hear his voice, to be comforted by it and to be reassured that he's alive, that he hasn't died from smoke inhalation or been burned beyond recognition in a blazing barn.

There's still a good hour before she needs to get up, before Ashley comes in with her coffee and before Ruby comes by to brief her about the day's events, so she stays in bed, turns onto her stomach as she waits for Robin's response. She suddenly recoils from the pillow she had just reached for - it smells like a mix of cologne and sweat, and it has a wave of nausea rolling through her as memories from the night before flood back into her brain. Leopold had come to her the night before. He never stays when he does that, always leaves for his own bed the moment he's done, but the smell of him always lingers long after he's gone.

Ugh. She'll ask Ashley to change her sheets today, doesn't want to be reminded of his moans of Eva, of his meaty stomach pressed against her or his groping hands on her when she goes to sleep tonight.

The smell is unbearable, even if it's faint, and it has her rolling out of bed and padding over to her chair by the window. She drops down into it, legs hanging over the arm. She reaches behind her to pull open the curtain slightly, filling the room with more light, then lifting her phone from she'd dropped it onto her stomach to check for Robin's reply.

The screen doesn't display any new messages, and it has the corners of her mouth turning down into a frown, but that's only for the briefest of moments, because the screen of her phone suddenly changes to show an incoming call. She swipes to answer immediately, a grin spreading across her face.

"Hi."

"Good morning, milady," Robin answers, and she can hear in his voice that he's wearing a grin to match her own. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not exactly. I had a bad dream, and I - uh - I wanted to hear your voice."

His voice is calm, reassuring but concerned, as he asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

There's a brief silence as she gathers her thoughts, tries to figure out where to begin, what to say.

"I dreamt about the night of the barn fire."

"That must have been a traumatic experience. Not something you'd want to relive in your sleep."

"No, it's not. It's a recurring dream, though." She's hesitant, the words coming out of her mouth slowly, gearing herself up to share with him something that only a handful of people in the world know the truth about. "There's something - there's one detail about that night that my mother made sure was never made public."

"And what's that?"

She struggles not to let her voice break, fails to do so as she says, "My boyfriend, Daniel, was killed in the fire."

"Oh, Regina. I'm so sorry." And he means it, she can hear it in his voice. It's nothing like the empty condolence she'd received from her mother, who she knew had been secretly happy that the love of her daughter's life had been removed from the equation, leaving her unattached and free to wed the King. His voice is soothing, giving her the strength to continue without the threat of tears. She holds on to his voice, lets it pull her out of the darkness that had started to seep back in with her dream.

"He ran in when he realized that the princess was still inside, that she'd gone back in after the competition ended. He saved Snow from being trampled to death by the escaping horses, but then one of the barn posts fell on his legs and crushed them. He was trapped, and he told me to take Snow and leave him. And I've regretted it every second of every day since then." She takes a deep, stuttering breath then, before she continues, "We were waiting until I would finish with grad school, and then we were going to get married."

"It must be terrible to relive the last moments of someone you love in your dreams." His voice is sympathetic, understanding, and she wishes that he could be with her now so that she could wrap her arms around him and never let him go. Never have to let him go, like she'd had to let Daniel go.

There are a few moments of silence on the line as Regina considers telling him that her dream last night hadn't been of Daniel, but had been of him. It's not something you really say to people, she thinks. Like Oh, by the way, you died a horrible death in my dream last night. But it's Robin, and there's something in her gut that tells her she can tell him anything, that she won't scare him off, and she needs a bit of reassurance right now, so she takes a breath and says, "Last night's dream was different than usual, though. It wasn't Daniel who was trapped in the barn. It was you. That's why I wanted to talk to you, to make sure you were ok." She closes her eyes, imagines his face as she listens to his response.

"Milady, I can assure you that I am a hundred percent healthy with zero chance of being trapped in a burning barn. I don't even know where there is one in this city, to be honest. I'm sitting on my couch right now, drinking a cup of coffee before heading off to work." His tone is playful, as he's trying to cheer her up, to lighten the mood, and then he's flirting with her, saying, "But I love it when you're concerned about me."

It's hard to believe someone can turn her mood around so fast, that he can make her so happy so quickly, but he does. She nods, even though he can't see her, relieved that he's alright, that nothing bad has happened to him like it had in her dream. "What did you dream last night?" she asks, turning it around to him.

He laughs. "It was rather strange, actually. But nice. You were in it."

"Was I?" she flirts, her voice low and suggestive.

"Yes. We were in...Camelot -" she lets out a giggle, then another at his "please, milady, I don't have control of my dreams, don't make fun" before whispering, "Sorry, go on."

"As I was saying. We were in Camelot, and Arthur and Guinevere were holding a ball in your honour."

"Arthur and Guinevere, really? Was Lancelot there, too?" She loves this, loves talking to him like this, she thinks to herself as she winds and unwinds a strand of hair around her finger.

"He wasn't, but that's beside the point. The ball was in your honour, and we were there together. We ate and danced the first song together, but then other guests wanted the privilege of a dance with the honouree, and so I had to wait my turn until you were free again."

"And none of Guinevere's ladies-in-waiting caught your eye while you waited?"

"Never. None could compare to you." She should be used to the intimate sincerity in his voice whenever he speaks to her by now, she thinks, but each time it has something bubbling up in her chest and stopping any sound coming from her mouth. It's a good thing that she's in the privacy of her bedroom, because she's sure the grin on her face is verging on making her look like a fool. She doesn't care, though. Robin is worth it.

"And at one point, you declared that it was enough, and if you were going to dance, it would be with me only. And so we danced, and then I woke up."

"Hmm. The Knights of the Round Table must have been complete dogs, then."

"You wound me, milady," he says, faking hurt, but he's laughing, and she closes her eyes for a moment to conjure up the image of those dimples that she's sure have made an appearance on his face with his smile.

"I'm kidding, Robin. I'd pick you over any knight, in any reality."

"I should only be so lucky."

"Trust me, I'm the lucky one." God, she thinks she'd gag over how much she sounds like a lovesick teenager if she wasn't so ridiculously happy that she doesn't care.

"I can't wait to see you today, milady," Robin murmurs in response after a brief pause. "But I'm afraid I have to leave for work soon. I'll see you in a few hours at the subway line inauguration, yeah?"

"Yes. I'll be the one trying not to look too bored for the cameras."

"And I'll be over by the press, with eyes only for you." He sounds just as smitten as she feels, and it makes her forget her nightmare, has her eager for the next few hours to pass by quickly so that she can see him again. And she can't wait for the evening, when she'll have him all to herself.

...

There's a light rain coming down, cooling the earth after the unseasonably hot day, and Robin's making his way up the palace steps with Sidney Glass. Sidney's yammering away beside him, asking Robin questions without giving him even a moment to answer. You'd think Robin was the editor and Sidney the rookie reporter, from the way Sidney's mix of eagerness and anxiety shines through as he fidgets with the invitation card in his hand.

"Can I make jokes when I talk to her? Or does she look down on that? She seems like a serious person. Does she prefer serious people? Or does she make jokes? Is she funny? Can I ask her questions about herself or will she be steering the conversation? Do you think she knows who I am? Should I wait till she tells me I can call her Regina or -"

"Sidney. Calm down," Robin interjects wearily. "She may be a Queen, but she's just a regular person. Treat her like that, and you'll be just fine. Ok?"

"Ok. Sorry, you must think me ridiculous. But I couldn't make it to the Press Reception last year, so this is the first time I'll meet our new queen. I just want to make a good impression."

They're at the palace doors now, whereupon presenting their invitations cards they are patted down by two palace guards, and then led into a vast corridor that Robin recognizes as being just off the palace dining hall. But they walk past the dining hall today, past the ballroom as well, are led into a smaller and more intimate state room, where other reporters and people from the media are mingling in small circles, glasses of prosecco in their hands as waiters walk around with trays of canapés.

A stoic waiter approaches Robin and Sidney with glasses of prosecco on the tray in his hand, asking in a haughty voice, "Would you care for a drink, gentlemen?" Robin takes a glass, but Sidney shakes his head at the waiter, murmuring something about a clear head.

Robin feels a hand on his shoulder, turns to find August Booth and an Asian woman he doesn't recognize smiling at him.

"Hey, Robin. I'd like to introduce you to Mulan, the VP over at the MHBC."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mulan. I've heard a lot about you. You are quite the legend," Robin says, reaching out his free hand to shake her hand. "I assume you've already met my editor, Sidney?"

Mulan's eyebrows lift. "I have, actually. Hello, Sidney. You've got yourself a solid reporter here in Locksley. If you're not careful, I might snatch him up from under you."

Sidney is still visibly nervous, and his only response to Mulan is a tight smile before he flags down a passing waiter and asks him if he knows how long before the King and Queen arrive?

August and Mulan exchange amused glances before turning back to Robin. The trio chat for a while about their plans for the summer, while Sidney stands anxiously beside them, clearly not paying any attention to the conversation. August is just telling them about his plans for a motorcycle road trip down the coast when silence falls among the other guests in the room as the imminent arrival of the King and Queen is announced and they are asked to form small semi-circles so that everyone can be introduced to the royals efficiently.

August moves to stand beside Robin, Mulan beside him. A glance at Sidney reveals a drop of sweat making its way down his forehead, which Sidney pats away with a handkerchief in his pocket. It doesn't do much good, though, because there's another drop of sweat following the first. Robin leans closer to his editor, whispers, "Don't worry. She's quite something, but she doesn't bite," in a repeat of what the palace guard had said to him to calm his nerves all those weeks ago.

Sidney only nods in response, and then the doors are opened for the King and Queen to enter. Robin and the others are standing near the entrance of the room, so they have a direct view of the door and of the royals, and they'll be one of the first to be greeted. Robin feels a rush of anticipation course through him at the thought of having her so close to him once more, and his hand itches to reach for his phone in his pocket to see if she's already texted him instructions on how they'll meet tonight, but he doesn't want to risk either Sidney or August reading a text from her over his shoulder so his phone stays in his pocket.

And then there she is, looking as stunning as ever. There's a round of applause for the entrance of the sovereign and his wife, but Robin barely registers it, barely even registers the King walking in beside her, has eyes only for her.

Her hair falls loose down her back in curls, released from the updo it had been in earlier today, and she's changed from the light blue pleated long-sleeve dress of the afternoon into a lilac, sleeveless dress that flows down from her waist, the material looking light and airy, perfect for a summer night out. Her eyes are searching the room, looking for him, perhaps, just as she'd done earlier today. She'd rewarded him with a wide smile and a small nod of acknowledgement then, does the same now when her eyes finally land on him, her eyes twinkling. She looks happier than ever, youth and light shining through her eyes rather than the boredom and weariness that people have become accustomed to in the past two years.

"She looks relaxed. Dare I say, even happy?" murmurs August beside him. "Maybe our Queen's finally adjusting to her new position."

"Maybe," Robin murmurs back, but he knows that it's more than that. Much more than that.

He watches as a waiter hands drinks to the royals, and then as the two are steered by the King's personal secretary, Peter, towards the first little group of people from the media closest to the door.

Robin estimates that it'll probably be at least fifteen minutes before they work through the first two groups to get to them, and it seems August and Mulan are thinking the same thing, because they both turn towards Sidney and Robin to continue their earlier conversation. Robin has a hard time concentrating this time, finds himself turning his head to watch the queen, his foot tapping against the floor in impatience as he takes another swig of his drink, tries to concentrate on what August is saying about the odd summer festivals held in a small town on the northeastern coast.

It's a good twenty minutes before it seems like the King and Queen are finishing up with the group to their left, and then Peter is steering the couple towards their semi-circle. The king is whispering something in her ear as they move towards them, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, and Robin notes the sudden shift in Regina's eyes, the brown depths filling with an anxiety twinged with fear, but then there's another change as a mask falls over her eyes and they turn expressionless. She glances at Robin, and he smiles at her as their eyes meet, but she glances away just as quickly.

Robin can feel Sidney shaking like a leaf beside him as he nods his head in a bow when Peter introduces him to the King and Queen. Leopold shakes his hand, says in a booming voice, "Mr. Glass, so good to see you again. I don't believe you've had a chance to meet my wife, yet. Regina, this is Sidney Glass, editor of the Daily Gazette. I remember when he was just a rookie reporter. He's made quite the success of himself since then."

"You're too kind, Your Majesty," is Sidney's breathy reply, but he's not looking at the King, instead he's staring at Regina, whose attempt to return Sidney's smile comes out as more of a smirk, and she's reaching out her hand hesitantly to shake his.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Glass," almost visibly recoiling when her hand meets his. Sidney doesn't seem to notice, instead has an enraptured smile on his face as he responds, "The pleasure is all mine, my Queen. I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time."

"How kind of you to say," is Regina's only reply, and then Peter is gesturing to Robin as he introduces him to the King. The King's eyes widen slightly when he hears his name, his mouth setting in a thin line.

This is the closest he's ever been to Leopold, and there's something about him that just makes Robin's skin crawl. Maybe it's because he knows a little about how he actually treats his wife, about how his kind and compassionate exterior that he shows to the people hides a darker side to him that his daughter probably doesn't even know about, maybe it's because he'll be the one Robin will have to answer to if anybody ever finds out about his relationship with the Queen - whatever it is, it gives Robin a bad feeling, and he has to force himself to keep his voice and smile steady as he bows to the King and shakes his hand.

"Robin Locksley," Leopold says, and Robin wonders if he's imagining the hint of malice in the King's voice, "you're quite the writer, aren't you? You must think you're really something, being handed the biggest royal exclusive of the year so soon after becoming a reporter." Robin can feel Regina's eyes on him, but he doesn't break eye contact with the King, doesn't want to risk giving anything away.

Robin shakes his head. "Quite the opposite, Your Majesty. I was only humbled to be given such an opportunity. I'm sure there are much more deserving reporters than I."

The King is opening his mouth to say something else, but then Regina's thrusting out her hand, saying "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Locksley."

He takes her hand, makes sure not to hold on to it for a second longer than necessary - no matter how much he wants to - as he feels the King's eyes boring into him, tells her warmly and rejoices as a bit of that contentment from earlier filters back into her eyes, rendering them expressionless no more, "You, too, Your Majesty. I'd like to thank you again for taking a chance on a rookie reporter like me. I do hope you enjoyed the article."

She smiles in return, says, "Very much, yes. Thank you for being so charitable in your characterization of me."

And then Peter is introducing the King to August, and Regina gives him one last pointed look before turning her attention to the man beside Robin. Once Mulan has been introduced, Regina asks them politely if they have any plans for the month in which the royal family vacations at the summer palace, taking a month off from their regular duties and engagements. Regina's sneaking glances at Robin every so often, and when he's sharing his plans to rent a cottage in the south, her eyes do not leave his face. He has to remind himself that he's not just speaking to her, that it would look suspicious if he didn't look at the King or the others as he talked, so he makes the effort to break their eye contact and looks at the King - and no, he didn't imagine it earlier. The King is looking at him with a deep malice, like he'd like to order his head to be hacked off and brought to him on a silver platter right there. It has Robin stuttering for a moment, losing his train of thought, wondering if the King suspects something or if he just really didn't appreciate his article. Luckily, August saves him then, interjects something about how when he was a child his father used to rent a cottage in the south and some of his happiest memories are from there. The conversation continues smoothly from there as Mulan asks after the Princess, and the King's face softens instantly as he talks about his daughter's school trip to the battlefields along the coast. It's only a few more minutes before the King is thanking them for coming and for reporting graciously about the Royal family, and then Peter is guiding the royal couple on to the next group.

Sidney immediately excuses himself once they're gone, and then August does as well, moving over to mingle with a few of the other members of the media already introduced. Now it's just Mulan and Robin, and she's looking at him with a knowing look on her face.

"What?" Robin almost barks.

She shakes her head. "Excuse my bluntness, but the King doesn't seem to like you very much." A brief pause, and then, "Unlike the Queen."

He tries to brush her off, hopes his face or his voice doesn't betray him as he responds, "We got along well when I interviewed her. I've never met the King before."

"Well, whatever it is, don't be discouraged. You're doing a good job." She moves a few inches closer to him as she lowers her voice and says, "And if you ever want out from under Sidney, or if you get tired of being a big fish in a small pond over at the Gazette, let me know. I'm sure I have something open for you." She hands him her card, and he can't help but look after her in shock as she walks away from him.

Robin stares down at the card in his hand for a few moments, not quite believing his luck. He's standing there alone, now, and as he glances around the room his eyes fall on Regina to his right, looking back at him. There's a small smile on her lips, and she raises her eyebrows slightly at him before turning her attention back to the people around her. It has him wondering whether there is indeed a message waiting for him on his phone, and so he makes his way out of the stateroom into the empty hallway, walks into to the washroom that had been pointed out to him and Sidney on their way in, shuts the door behind him and pulls out his phone.

You look really good in blue. It really brings out your eyes. ;)

And then another text.

Once the King and I leave the reception, go back the way they brought you in, but take the hallway directly across from the dining hall. About halfway down there's a side table with a vase on it. On the left of it, there's a switch in the wall, about elbow height, but invisible. Push it and it'll open a passageway. Wait for me inside.

And another.

I'll be counting down the minutes. :)

...

It's close to 10 o'clock by the time the King and Queen finish making the rounds at the Press Reception, before they're finally free to leave the members of the media to enjoy the open bar and the canapés without a royal presence, say good night to Peter and Ruby, and retreat back into the privacy of their chambers.

Leo is silent, and his silence has Regina on edge the entire time that they walk side by side back to their wing of the palace, because she can't tell if he's upset or if he's in one of his calmer states. He hasn't criticized her for her performance tonight yet, so there's that at least, but the anxiety ramps up as they get closer and closer to their rooms, to where he will turn left and she will go right. She hopes that he will go left.

She nearly jumps when she hears him speak, startled by the sudden break in the silence that had enveloped them since they'd left behind the waiters and the guards and the media. "I'm skyping with Snow tonight. She wants to tell me all about how her trip is going. I'll tell her you say hello."

Regina nods, clears her throat before replying diplomatically, "I hope she's having a good time. You'll have to fill me in on the details tomorrow at breakfast. I think - um - I'm going to go to sleep early tonight. It's been an exhausting day."

Leo stops abruptly in his tracks, sending Regina's pulse racing with apprehension. But his words surprise her, have her suppressing her sigh of relief lest it make him suspicious.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Regina. You did a wonderful job today, and the people seem to be warming to you."

"Thank you for saying so," she responds, a hint of surprise in her voice.

He turns to walk towards his own bedroom, says softly so that she has to strain to hear him, making her wonder if he'd meant for her hear or not, "I only wish it could have been Eva by my side tonight."

And there it is, that unexpected slap in the face that makes her stomach drop. The casual comment that is so cruel, that has her feeling unwanted and despised, that has rage and loneliness and sadness bubbling up within her again.

But she's not unwanted. She's not despised. She has Robin.

Regina stands and stares after him, waits until she hears his bedroom door close before she turns on her heel and rushes back the way they had come. Down the corridor, down the stairs, past the dining hall and past the side table to that secret door in the wall. Her fingers find the opening mechanism easily, and she glances quickly to the left and to the right to make sure no one is around. There's probably only one thing that she's grateful to Queen Eva for, and that's her adamant insistence that no security cameras be put anywhere inside the palace, meaning Regina can walk the corridors unnoticed when she wants.

Seeing that the coast is clear, she takes a deep breath before pushing the opening mechanism to let herself in, a small smile spreading across her face already with the anticipation of seeing Robin again. Of actually getting to touch him, to see his dimples up close, to kiss him, to wrap her arms around him and not let him go. Regina walks through the darkness, down the short passageway into the small circular room at the end of it. There's a tiny window high up in the wall, and the rain clouds from earlier in the evening have cleared, letting moonlight filter in through the glass to illuminate the room.

It's empty.

Her brow creases as she wonders if something's held Robin up, or if he got lost, or caught, or if she just made it down here much faster than she expected she would. She silently curses at herself for not going into her own bedroom to get her phone before flying back down the stairs.

Her hand fumbles on the shelf to her left before finding the candle and the matches she left there when she was last here on Sunday. The light from the fat taper of a candle casts the room in a hazy, orang-ish golden glow, and she walks around the rest of the room, lighting candles as she goes, before plopping herself down onto the ancient armchair under the window. She glances around the room, at the effect of the candlelight shining on the spines of the ancient tomes and volumes that line the built-in bookshelves that take up every inch of space on the wall. The room gives off an air of history, of resilience, of secrecy, of solitude - but a nice kind of solitude, like the one sought out, not the one forced upon someone. It's the reason she loves this room so much, why she sneaks down here sometimes in the middle of the night, or on a long endless days when the King and Snow are out and she's confined by the palace walls. She'd found the room during her first month living in the palace, and she's sure that Leo and Snow know nothing about it.

It's all hers.

There'd been wax coating parts of the floor from where candles had burned down long ago, cobwebs and dust filling every inch of the room when she'd first walked in, giving off the air of not being used for at least a century. It's a small room, only about four metres in diameter, but by no means stifling. More comforting, than anything else.

The book she'd taken off the shelf to flip through the last time she was here still lies on the small table beside the armchair, a small layer of dust and grime coating the cover. It's an odd tale, printed in an ancient script, about dragons and fairies and trolls and a misunderstood queen labelled as evil by her people who ends up sacrificing herself for her kingdom. It's some kind of myth, a legend with bizarre little details, but one she can't find any trace of on the internet. It has her wondering again for the thousandth time which of Leo's royal ancestors had had this secret library built and stocked with such tales, if it had been built when the palace had been built 400 years ago or if it had been a later addition. It's old though, very old, and some of the books seem even older than that, so the former is more likely, but there's no written record of secret passages or secret rooms. Whoever had built these rooms had wanted them hidden. She wonders what the builder would think of a secret meeting between lovers taking place in one of the hidden rooms. Would probably approve, she thinks. Maybe.

From where she's sitting, Regina can see that light has suddenly flooded into the corridor, and she jumps to her feet and walks the few paces to the entrance to peak through. The light has faded away by the time she's at the entrance, but the light from the candles reveals a figure moving through the shadows.

The figure takes a few more steps, and then he's close enough to the entrance of the room that candlelight falls across Robin's face.

She launches herself at him, wraps her arms around his neck and letting out a laugh of pure happiness. His arms are around her instantly, and he's letting out a chuckle of his own. Regina takes a moment to just hold onto him, to breathe in his scent and relish in the feel of his arms around her. He smells like cologne, but there's a woodsy, nature-y smell to it, and it's so unlike the one Leo uses that she inhales deeply once more in order to memorize it. And then he's nudging her gently, pushing her away slightly until there's enough room for him to bring his mouth down to meet hers. It's a heated and passionate thing, drawing a small moan from her as she responds to him, opening her mouth for his tongue. Her fingers grip at the fabric of his jacket over his shoulder blades, and she lets out a little huff of frustration because it's not close, not close enough. She pushes him away slightly, still keeping their lips connected as she takes the added space to reposition her arms, moves them down around and under his jacket to clutch at his waist, feeling the hardness of his muscles move under her hands. He chuckles into her mouth, lets go of her for a moment to take off his jacket and drop it to the floor, giving her hands more room to roam up and down his spine, to pull him closer until their torsos are flush against each other, and then his fingers are suddenly in her hair, brushing it away from her face, resting his thumb against her cheek bone, while his other hand rests at the small of her back.

When they pull apart finally to catch their breath, Regina rests her forehead against his and opens her eyes, but his face is a blur in front of her from being so close.

He speaks first, says simply, "I've missed you, milady."

She lets out a low chuckle, replies, "I can tell. I've missed you too, Robin."

For a few moments, they just stand there, breathing each other in, lips and noses brushing but not fully touching. He lets out a contented sigh, and then pulls back a little to take in the room. The candles, the dust, the books, the tattered rug, the battered upholstered chair.

His brow wrinkles in curiosity, his mouth dropping open for a moment in awe. "How did you find this place? Does the palace have more secret rooms like this?"

She shrugs, replies only, "I got bored once when the King and Snow were gone. As far as I know, they know nothing about the secret rooms or passageways. I've found five, so far. This is my favourite. I call it 'The Vault'."

"Do you spend a lot of time in here?" he asks, and it's not out of politeness, it's because he actually wants to know.

"Some nights when I can't sleep," she says, as she places her hands on top of his and draws them away from her face, pulls him gently by the hand towards the armchair. "And I like to come and read here if I have a bit of free time and I know no one will come looking for me." Regina gestures for him to sit down, and he does, while she perches on the side table beside the chair, knees pointed towards him, pressing into the armrest.

Robin lets out a chuckle, takes the hand still grasping his and tugging on it until she's standing, and then his arm is around her waist, drawing her closer to him until she's practically sitting on his lap, her legs draped across his, one of his hands resting against her thigh. "I want you close," he says quietly, and she feels like her face will break from how wide her smile is. She tries to tamper it down enough to plant a proper kiss on his lips, but she's still smiling when their lips meet. It's sloppy, but it's real.

Regina rests her forehead against his temple once more, lifting the hand not around his shoulders to run a finger along the scruff on his jaw. He smiles at her touch, turns his face and drops his chin to kiss the back of her hand, before asking, "Was tonight better than last year's Reception?"

She nods, continues to run a finger up and down his jaw. "It was." Her forehead furrows as she says, "But, god, your editor is a creep. He was practically leering at me."

"Mmm. He has an odd fascination with you. He was grilling me before we came, about whether he could make jokes in front of you or if you prefer serious people -"

She scoffs. "Well, he barely said a word during the entire conversation. He just stared. It was weird."

"It looks like I won't need to be around him much longer. Mulan, the VP of MHBC? She offered me a job."

"That's fantastic, Robin!" Regina exclaims, and leans in to kiss him again. "That's a major step up for your career!"

He smiles back at her once they part, lifts the hand on her leg to card his fingers through his hair as he tells her earnestly, "It is. And it wouldn't have been possible without your help, milady."

"I'm glad."

She settles back down against him and hums contentedly.

"Regina?"

"Hmm?"

"I should probably leave soon, no? Wouldn't want the guards to see me stumbling out of the palace long after all the other guests have left, or it'd be suspicious."

She smiles, squeezes his hand on her thigh in reassurance. "Don't worry. They won't see you. There's a secret passage from this room, it leads all the way out into the park, far from the guards. I just found it this past weekend, actually, under the rug. Lucky thing, too. You can stay as long as you like."

"So..." She can see him calculating something in his mind. "So - there's a way to get in and out of the palace undetected? To a room that only you know about?" A smile spreads across his face, matching her own as she nods vigorously in response.

"Yes, Robin. We can meet here."

"That simplifies things."

She nods again, letting out a chuckle of her own as he breaths out a laugh and bites his lower lip. And then she moves forward, takes that lower lip between her own and lightly nips at it like she's been wanting to do since Saturday. His hands tighten for a moment against her as he returns her kiss.

"But we're going to have to go a month without seeing each other," she laments once she pulls away. The royal family's annual holiday to the summer palace for the month of July is only a few weeks away.

"No secret passageways in the summer palace?" Robin teases.

"Not that I've found yet. But it'll be so boring there, maybe I'll have time to find a few." A pause and then, "My dad's coming to visit. I haven't seen him since Christmas."

"That'll be nice."

"Yeah. And you? The cottage you were talking about earlier, is it your family's place?"

"No. My parents died when I was 19. Car accident. It's just me now. No siblings, no extended family."

There's something in his face as he says it that makes her want to comfort him, because for a moment there'd been a flash of loneliness across his face, making him look vulnerable and much much younger in the candle light, letting her imagine what he'd looked like as a kid. She places her hand on the one he rests on her thigh, and he turns his hand so that their palms touch, their fingers intertwining. "It does get lonely sometimes, with no family. Especially after I moved to this gigantic city. Christmas Eve was just a tray in front of the telly this year." Her heart squeezes at that, because she knows what it's like to feel alone, but after everything she does have family, she does have her father who she loves more than anything in the world, and she'll never actually be truly alone as long as he's alive, even if he does live in another country and even if she does have a few lonely meals of her own in the palace. Her grip on his hand tightens. He looks up at her with a small smile, continues, "But I've a friend, John, who's got a massive family, and he invited me over to join them for Christmas Day. It was nice. He also invited me to spend a few weeks at his family's cottage in July. His mom's the best cook, I'll probably be back in August with an extra fifty pounds," he finishes with a laugh.

She wrinkles her nose playfully at that, replies with a toss of her head, "Don't you dare, or you won't fit through the tunnel to get into this room and then I'll just have to find another reporter to amuse myself with."

Robin chuckles again, only shakes his head at her. A brief silence stretches between them, but it's not awkward, not in the least. Regina plays with his fingers as his other hand strokes up and down the length of her bare arm. The candles around them flicker slightly, and she makes a mental note that she'll have to sneak more candles into the room for future rendez-vous.

Robin takes a sharp breath, like he's about to speak. Regina waits, and after a few more moments of silence she prods him lightly with a finger against his forearm in encouragement.

"What did the King say to you?" he asks quietly, and Regina has to think for a moment about what exactly he's referring to before remembering Leo's instruction whispered in her ear at the Press Reception.

"Oh. It was stupid."

"Regina -" Robin starts, but she silences him with another prod of her finger against his forearm.

"He said that just because I'm young and beautiful doesn't mean that every man wants me, so I should stop making a fool of myself by being a flirt." She doesn't look at him, instead stares intently at his forearm.

"I wasn't even flirting," she grumbles, "I was just being nice, and social, to make up for last year, and people responded to that. He just gets upset when people treat me like a human, I guess, as if they're disrespecting Eva's memory when they're nice to me or aren't pretending I don't exist, or something idiotic like that. He's not like that all the time...but it's like everything's fine one moment, and I feel like I can actually relax and then something just flairs up in him and he says something cruel and everything changes again, and I feel like shit. Or he touches me, even though we both know that he's only using me because the one he wants is six feet under and I just...I wish it didn't affect me so much but...it does." She looks down at him then, lifts her hand to stroke it against the scruff along his jaw and move his face gently towards her until their eyes meet and says, "But it has less of an effect on me now that I have you." She waits for him to smile back at her before continuing, "But I don't want to think about him, now. So, kiss me again."

He does, and it starts out slow and languid but heats up quickly, causing them to both adjust in their positions in order to make the angle of their mouths less awkward, more suited for deep kisses. His fingers find their way into her hair once more, and she runs the hand not around his shoulders up and down his arm. She really likes his arms, the feel of his muscles under his shirt. He works out, she can tell. It's just another thing to add to her mental list of all the things she likes about him. His dimples, his eyes, his scruff, his sense of humour, his arms...the list goes on.

When they pull apart finally, the need for air too much, Robin keeps his hand in her hair, keeping their eyes locked, brown on blue. There's such a tenderness in his eyes, and Regina thinks that it borders almost on love. She can feel it from the way he's looking at her, it's palpable in the air around them, like an electric pulse that surrounds them, an unspoken I love you that she can almost hear. It has her breath hitching, because she never thought she'd have this, and then she lifts the hand on his bicep to cover the hand on her face with hers, gently draws it away from her face. She maintains their eye contact as she blindly reaches for the button on the cuff of his shirt and undoes it, and then folds his sleeve back until she can see in her peripheral vision that his tattoo is revealed.

She runs a finger over it lightly, finally breaks their shared gaze to look down at it as she asks, "Do you believe in fortune tellers?"

"No, I don't."

"Neither do I," she says, her eyebrows quirking upward. "But when I was eighteen, a fortune teller at a town fair told me that I was destined to be with a man with a lion tattoo." She can hear his soft intake of breath as she continues, "I thought she was a phony," she finally lifts her eyes to his, sees a surge of ardent emotion there in his blue eyes, "And then I met you, and I saw your tattoo. And I thought that maybe there is a bit of magic in this world, after all."

"Maybe there is," he breathes out, and then his lips find hers once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will probably be the last. This got really long because there was a lot I wanted to cram in before finishing the story. Not sure how long it'll take to write the last chapter, but it's coming, don't worry. :) As always, comments make me smile and are very much appreciated!!


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